


Saltwater on Skin - Wives Edition

by CandyQueenAO3



Series: Ilha de Queimada Grande [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale has a Strength Kink, Aziraphale is Zira Fell, BAMF Crowley (Good Omens), Because it Sounds Pwetty, But in That She Has Poor Social Skills, Crowley Has Two Clitorises (Good Omens), Crowley has a cloaca (Good Omens), Crowley has a praise kink, F/F, Feral Crowley (Good Omens), Frottage, Happy Ending, Humor, Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Naga Crowley (Good Omens), Not in The Sense That She's an Animal, One of them is anyway, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pansexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Pansexual Crowley (Good Omens), Possessive Crowley (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Aziraphale (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Crowley (Good Omens), and no concept of personal space, obviously!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25940074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyQueenAO3/pseuds/CandyQueenAO3
Summary: Zira Fell, an award-winning novelist, has just sold the one millionth copy of her newest book. While celebrating with friends and family on a rented yacht, Zira falls overboard and is washed ashore on an uncharted island. Ever the optimist, she keeps her spirits up while she awaits rescue. That is, until she gets the distinct feeling that she isn't ALONE on this island; that there's SOMETHING else out there.Watching her...*~*~*~*~*"Saltwater on Skin", now with 200% more WLW.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ilha de Queimada Grande [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1704274
Comments: 82
Kudos: 99





	1. Overboard

**Author's Note:**

> This whole idea came about because my friend, Grayscaletestimony said, "Hey, what if your fic... but with WIVES?" to which I replied, "Gray, you goddamn genius! Take my life savings, the keys to my car, and my husband!"

“To my sister!” Gabriel cheered, lifting a flute of champagne in a toast.

The woman in question, Zira Fell, raised her own flute in answer with a face-splitting grin.

 _“And_ to her best book yet!” Zira's oldest friend, Anathema, exclaimed, not even bothering to wait for the toast to be completed before gulping down her own drink.

“Hear! Hear!” came the resounding cry of the partygoers.

All around Zira were her family, friends, and various wellwishers. Her newest novel, _“The Mermaid’s Tale”_ had just sold a million copies and, as a way of celebrating, her younger brother Gabriel had rented a yacht and hustled everyone on board for a full day of drunken revelry.

The only ones not partaking in the many, _many_ spirits cracked open to share were the captain, Newton Pulsifer, and Zira herself. 

No, Zira was more than content to simply bask in the warmth of camaraderie and the thrill of a story well told. Still, she sipped politely at her drink as she made her way to the ship’s railing. She leaned against the cool metal and inhaled the salty-sweet smell of the open ocean. In the distance, just close enough to be in sight, Zira could make out the shape of an island rising out of the clear blue water.

“It’s _amazing_ out here. _So_ glad we decided to do this,”

 _“You_ decided to throw this party. _I_ was quite blindsided,” Zira chuckled as her brother sidled up beside her.

Gabriel gasped in mock outrage. “Well if _that’s_ the case, I’ll just have Captain Newton turn this boat around and we’ll all go home. Too bad, so sad, guess the party’s over!”

Zira slugged Gabriel in the arm.

“Don’t you _dare!_ Everyone put so much hard work into this!”

Gabriel rubbed his arm with a wince. “I was _kidding,_ Zi. You need to stop punching me because I’m _pretty_ sure we’re not in international waters yet, so murdering me is still a criminal offense.”

Zira just rolled her eyes. Despite the sounds of the pulsing music from the yacht’s speakers and the din of the partygoers, she could hear Gabriel's voice when he murmured, “If mom were here, she’d be real proud of you, Zi.”

Zira felt her throat close up at the sudden wave of sadness that overtook her. She and Gabriel had been orphaned when they were just twenty-one and sixteen, respectively. Neither of them had known their father, so their mother had been their entire world. Even now, five years later, the wounds were still somewhat fresh.

“I hope so, Gabe. _God_ I hope so,”

Gabriel could sense the shift in the atmosphere and reached out to clap a massive hand on Zira's back. “Come on. Let’s get you back to the party before Anathema starts doing her crystal ball potions or palm scrying or whatever it is she does.”

Zira allowed herself to be steered towards the bow where, sure enough, Anathema had whipped out her deck of tarot cards and was now attempting to rope people into a reading.

“Oh sweet Jesus we’re too late…” groaned Gabriel, burying his face in his hands.

The music (some upbeat bebop thing) dimmed as the timid, stuttering voice of Captain Newton made an announcement. “A-attention all passengers! Attention p-please! We’re approaching choppy seas, so as per company policy, all souls aboard are to d-don their issued flotation devices until we are in safer waters.”

Several party members groaned loud enough for Newton to hear them all the way up in his captain’s cabin. “N-no complaining, please! Or I’ll… I’ll have to turn this ship around!”

The threat of the party ending prematurely was enough to spur everyone into slipping on ghastly orange life vests from a supply trunk passed around by a crew member. Zira had just managed to tighten the final strap on her own, when she felt the familiar twinge in her bladder of nature calling.

“Anathema, dear, do you know where the loo is?” she asked.

Anathema, who had been staring dreamily at the captain’s cabin, just pointed towards the stern of the yacht. “It’s back there, and the door’s labelled. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,”

As Zira made her way down the length of the ship, she could feel the deck bobbing and swaying slightly beneath her feet. When she finally managed to _get_ to the loo, she had to prop both hands against the adjacent wall of the stall to avoid slipping into the toilet.

When she staggered back out, the waves beyond the deck were capped with white and it had become a chore to simply remain _upright._ The deck was slick with water and Zira was forced to grip the handrailing in a white-knuckle grip.

And then the yacht gave a lurch as it crested one final wave. 

Zira could only utter a faint, “Oh dear” before she was pitching over the rail and into the warm waters of the open sea. 

The crystalline water closed over her head and, for a brief second, Zira thought she would sink straight to the bottom of the ocean. Instead, her life jacket did its job and she bobbed back to the surface like a cork, gasping and sputtering the whole way. She pulled her sodden hair away from her eyes to see the yacht sailing away at a decent clip.

There was no _conceivable_ way she’d be able to catch up to it by swimming, so Zira defaulted to yelling.

“Hey! Hey!! Man Overboard! Help!! Gabriel! Anathema! Come back!”

The rumbling of the boat’s engine as well as the thumping bass of the music drowned _(Oh goodness!)_ out the sounds of Zira's desperate cries for help. When it became apparent that nobody had noticed her topple into the sea, Zira gave one long, final cry until her voice cracked and died out.

_Oh no. Oh dear. This isn’t good._

The blonde paddled in a circle, hoping against hope to find another boat that she could signal to or perhaps- there!

The island that Zira had been watching earlier was in sight. It would be a long, _long_ swim there, but _anything_ was better than floating about as easy prey for sharks or giant squids or what have you.

_Steady on, old girl. Your family is bound to notice you missing. You_ _**just** have to stay alive long enough for rescue to come, and you won’t survive out here._

With that in mind, Zira took a breath to compose herself, then started a slow, almost lazy breaststroke to the island in order to conserve her energy. All the while she kept humming merry tunes (in her head, of course) to keep her spirits up.

_What was that lovely little movie with the forgetful blue fish? There was a very delightful song she kept singing. What was it?... Ah! Yes! Just keep swimming… just keep swimming…_

***~*~*~*~***

It took Zira several hours before she was finally able to drag her aching body ashore. If she’d at all had the stamina for long distance swimming, it would have only taken her one. As it stood, however, she’d had to take frequent breaks to simply float on her back until her arms and legs stopped cramping and she could continue her one-woman voyage.

She didn’t even bother crawling completely out of the surf, just flopped inelegantly on the white sand after making sure at least her _head_ was free from the water.

“S-see, Zira? Nothing to… to it,” she panted.

A tiny, more logical part of her brain was screaming at her to get up and move further away from the water, as it could very well be low-tide at the moment and she wouldn’t fancy being swept out to sea _again_ when it came back in. As it stood, however, the larger and more _incessant_ part of herbrain was overwhelmed by sensations of pain and exhaustion; therefore it seemed _perfectly reasonable_ to choose to nap there.

With the last of her strength, Zira wiggled out of her life jacket to instead use it as a softer (if somewhat soggy) pillow than the ground underneath her. She patted the life jacket with a sleepy, “Good work, er-” then checked the brand name. “IPRA. Yes, thank you, IPRA, for keeping me safe. Rescue shan’t be much longer now.”

She was out before she had even completely put her head back down.

***~*~*~*~***

A sharp jab to the temple was what woke her several hours later. Zira jolted upright with a yelp. A rather enterprising seagull had apparently hopped over to her and, curious as to what this strange creature was, given her an investigatory peck. 

Zira grumbled and waved her arm at the discourteous little thing.

“Shoo, you terror!”

The seagull gave an indignant squawk before taking flight (but not before delivering another quick peck to Zira's thigh). Grumbling about “flying sea rats”, Zira took in her surroundings.

She had evidently been asleep longer than she thought she would be.

The moon had risen directly overhead, casting a soft ring of light around itself. There was not a single cloud in the sky and, without any light pollution, the stars were able to shine in their full, intended glory.

“Oh _my…_ that’s…” gasped Zira.

A spiral arm of the Milky Way stretched across the entire length of the sky, standing out against the stark blackness of the night. But even that blackness, however, was more of a rich, royal blue than true black, and studded throughout with pinpricks of white light, like diamonds on dark velvet.

Zira felt tears spring to her eyes that had nothing to with the fact that she was stranded. She had lived in London her entire life and, outside of a handful of photographs in textbooks, never _seen_ so many stars in one place. She put a hand over her chest to feel the fluttering of her heart beneath her finger tips.

“Are you up there, mother?” she sniffled. “If so, I can think of no better place for you to be.”

In the rustling of the trees and the whispering of the waves, Zira could _almost_ hear her comforting shushes like she would do for her as a child when she had nightmares.

That, of course, was when Zira realized that she was quite a bit further away from the shore than she had been when she first fell asleep.

_What in the…?_

Though there were no lights beyond starlight for her to see by, Zira could make out furrows in the sand from the water’s edge all the way up to where she was currently sitting. It looked as if something had _dragged_ her across the beach..

A frisson of fear skittered up the woman's spine. Were there large predators on this island? Surely it couldn’t have been the _seagull_ that had lugged her up to the tree line? Zira patted herself down, but beyond salt-encrusted clothes, there were no signs of injury on her body. Whatever had moved her hadn’t done so with the intention to eat her.

Was it a person, perhaps? Were there humans living on this island? If so, why hadn’t they tried to wake her up? 

No sir, Zira didn’t like this new situation _one bit_.

She rose shakily to her feet (muscles screaming at her the entire way) and she called out a tentative, “Hello? Is anybody there?”

Her only answer was the sea breeze through the undergrowth. Zira sat back down and drew her knees up to her chest in a protective embrace.

She wasn’t sure how long it would be until sunrise, but she _was_ sure of one thing.

She wouldn’t be sleeping for the rest of the night.

***~*~*~*~***

“Well, so much for not sleeping,” Zira groaned as she unlocked her joints the next morning.

Evidently exhaustion had won out over paranoia, as she had drifted off while still seated upright.

Now that the tropical sun was fully risen, and she had had somewhat of a good sleep, Zira could better take stock of her situation.

Nobody had come to the beach during the night, and (as far as she knew) no ships had passed close enough either. Her friends and family would no doubt have sent the Coast Guard out looking for her by now, so it was now only a matter of surviving long enough to _be_ rescued.

 _"Assuming they don’t just call off the search because they think you’re already dead,"_ a spiteful little voice hissed inside her head.

“Nonsense! I’m sure any minute either Anathema or Gabriel or even my dear neighbor Tracy will come sailing up to take me home,” she scoffed.

Zira's therapist back home had been urging her to consider using “positive self-talk” when she felt her anxieties creeping up on her. She hadn’t really practiced it much before that point, but there was no time like the present to learn!

_You’re gonna be doing_ _**a lot** of new learning, here._

_That_ thought wasn’t _completely_ negative, so Zira let it slide. Instead, she chose to focus on _whatever_ it was that had dragged her further inland last night. It most likely wasn’t some kind of hostile animal, but if it was…

Well…

A good fire would hopefully be more than enough to keep it at bay, provided Zira was able to keep the flames alive.

“Right! Fire! Suppose I’ll need some kindling…”

The woman puttered up and down the length of the beach, gathering choice bits of driftwood that felt dry enough set alight. She was tempted to enter the jungle that led deeper into the island, but the thought of coming face-to-face with wild animals had her reconsidering. No, a nice beachfront bonfire would be enough.

Just above the tide line, Xira dug a shallow pit and heaped the driftwood inside it. Her next step, if all the films and books were to be believed, was to simply rub two sticks together to generate enough friction for a spark and _voila!_

After twenty minutes of unsuccessful stick rubbing, Zira was forced to admit that _maaaaybe_ Tom Hanks movies weren’t the best instructors on fire starting.

Her fingers were stiff and red, and the rest of Zira felt like crying in frustration. She chucked the sticks into the firepit with the rest of the wood with a cry of, _"Balderdash!"_ [1]

Just as soon as she did so, however, something thudded into the sand behind her. Zira whirled around, scared that it might be that _rude_ seagull again, only to find a blackish-brown rock the size of her fist and a flat, slightly warped strip of metal lying there instead.

Had those always been there?

Never one to look a gift horse (or rock) in the mouth, Zira picked up her new treasures and returned to her fire pit. She had once read something about _flint_ being a good firestarter. Perhaps that’s what the stone was?

Experimentally, she slid the rock down the length of the metal and was rewarded with a shower of sparks. Zira gasped in delight! It _was_ flint!

It took her several tries (and experimenting with different structures of the driftwood) before she was _finally_ able to get a small fire going. Zira leapt to her feet with a whoop, spinning in tight circles as she did so.

“It worked! It _worked!”_ she cheered. “Oh _thank you!"_

Zira wasn’t quite sure _who_ she was thanking (either God, the spirit of her mother, or the universe at large) but it _had_ to be said. No beasties would be getting _her_ tonight!

All that work, however, had made her _thirsty_ and Zira was confronted with a _new_ host of problems. She couldn’t drink sea water (lest she risk swift kidney failure preceded by madness) and as far as she could see, there was no freshwater spring to be found. Her best bet would be to venture into the jungle and attempt to find water _there,_ but…

The trees beyond loomed large, like a spectre. Zira was reminded of books about children stranded on a deserted island who had ventured into the jungle and returned worshipping a pig’s head on a pike! She shuddered hard enough to shake the dried salt from her shoulders.

She didn’t _want_ to enter the jungle, but at this point, did she really have a choice? Zira's eyes scanned the treeline, looking for the best angle to enter it that would result in the least amount of destruction to her already ruined clothes.

_Just palm trees and coconut trees as far as the eye can…_

_Wait…_

_Coconuts!_

Seeing as there was no electricity, a metaphorical candle went off over Zira's head instead. Coconuts had water! Or was it milk? Both? It didn’t matter, they had _drinkable liquids!_

The only problem now, however, was getting them down from the tree. Zira didn’t exactly consider herself _athletic,_ but she _had_ climbed a tree or two in her youth. Granted, they were regular trees, with branches and everything, but surely the same principle applied?

As it turned out, the same principle did _not_ apply. With no branches to rest her weight on or to act as footholds, Zira had to dig her shoes into the bark, squeeze the trunk between her thighs, and inch her way upwards. It was quite a bit more difficult than she was expecting, but she felt the effort was _well_ worth it when she was able to free half a dozen or so green coconuts from their perch.

She had no knife or machete to peel away the dense, fibrous layer that protected the water within, but she _did_ have a rocky outcropping by the shoreline and a dogged determination to _survive._

Zira bashed the coconut against the jagged, hip-high rock and it cracked enough to allow the juice to dribble free. The woman didn’t hesitate to press her lips to the hole, tilt her head back, and drink it down like the life-sustaining liquid it was. 

Zira had never tasted fresh coconut water before, so she was mildly surprised to find it slightly tangy with a floral finish.

“Goodness! That isn’t like a pina colada _at all!”_ she exclaimed.

It was far from a complaint; more of a fascinated observation. 

Smacking the now empty shell against the rock some more yielded the tender meat inside, but Zira knew that coconuts alone would not sustain a human body for long. Her muscles would need a source of protein and, seeing as there was no creatine powder available, the fish swimming in the shallows would have to suffice.

Catching them with a rod and line was out of the question, so sharpening one end of a long stick into a point using the mysterious flint would be a close second.

This time when Zira stepped into the ocean, she had the luxurious option of removing her shoes, pants, and shirt so as not to ruin them further. Carefully, so as not to frighten her “prey” away, Zira shuffled into the water until it was just below her knees. Her initial movements startled the fish, but after a minute or two of standing stock-still, they returned to their usual patterns of behavior.

“I wonder if any of these little fellows are used in sushi…” she whispered to herself.

When one of them drifted close enough, Zira stabbed downward with her makeshift spear. The fish was quicker, however, and darted out of range. The other fish were startled in turn, and swam a few feet further from the shore. It was certainly frustrating, but by no means discouraging.

Zira just huffed her frustration, then waded out further. She didn’t _want_ to dirty her good panties and bra anymore than she already had during her first tumble into the sea, but at this point she didn’t have much of an option if she wanted to catch a fish while still preserving her modesty.

 _"From who?! There’s no one here but you!"_ chided the little voice.

“Oh hush, you. I have _standards,”_

Zira swallowed her stupid standards, and walked further until the water was _just_ above her solar plexus. Out here the fish were a bit bigger and less skittish, but the current had grown stronger to the point where Zira had to dig her heels into the sand to find purchase.

One of them had swum into range, so Zira seized her chance. She drove the spear into the water, but the force behind her swing sent her toppling over. Right before the current sucked her down, she could have _sworn_ she heard shouting from the shore.

Zira had enough presence of mind to acknowledge that this was _twice_ in less than 24 hours wherein she found herself at the mercy of the sea, but at the moment he couldn’t be arsed to care. She tumbled head-over-heels under the water and her journey was only halted by her left leg _slamming_ into a bright orange fanned piece of coral that sliced into her calf and turned the water around her red with blood.

Zira cried out in pain, her screams floating to the surface in tortured bubbles. She fought to right herself and made for the surface. Now free from the worst of the current, Zira was able to take heaving gulps of air 

_Oh this is bad. This is very, **very** bad!_

If she didn’t get back on dry land _soon,_ her injury could attract reef sharks! 

Or she could bleed out.

Neither sounded like good options.

Zira let her bad leg dangle limply behind her as she swam for safety. Red trailed in her wake like she was staining the canvas of the ocean with the ink of her blood. She wasn’t quite sure how much of it she was losing, but the ringing in her ears accompanied by blurred vision and dizziness meant it was too much.

If she could just get back to the shore, she could use her shirt or pants as a bandage until the worst of it stopped.

“N-not a… tourniquet…” she slurred as her toes brushed the sand. “...that’ll… th-that will… mmmmake worse…”

Zira was reminding herself of this, as every other thought seemed to be leaking out of her along with her lifeblood. 

Oh.

When had she fallen over?

The sand was nice and _warm_ and she felt so _cold_ that it was a pleasant balm against her chilled skin.

There was _something_ wrong with this picture, but Zira, for the life of her, couldn’t figure out what. Something important…

Something about red?

Wine maybe?

Eh, it didn’t matter.

She'd feel better after a nap…

***~*~*~*~***

The darkness in Zira's vision parted like fog before a headlamp. The ringing in her ears had, mercifully, abated, but she still felt rather discombobulated.

Just what had happened?

Then she remembered the spear-fishing attempt, getting swept out by the tide, _bleeding…_

She sat bolt upright with a gasp and almost immediately regretted doing so. Her head was _pounding_ and it felt like the world had suddenly tilted 45°. 

“Where…”

Her voice trailed off as she realized she was in a _cave!_ The walls and ceiling were, well, _cavernous_ and illuminated by a bluish-green fungus that cast everything in a soft, strangely comforting glow. It was completely silent, save for the dripping of water somewhere nearby and Zira's own frantic breathing.

 _How_ had she gotten here? What was going _on?!_

She tried to push herself to her feet but cried out in pain. Her left leg hurt when she tried to put weight on it, but otherwise it only stung a little. She turned it over to get a better look at the gash and choked on a whimper.

Her leg had been, in a word, _bandaged._

Some kind of exotic-looking leaf had been wrapped around her entire calf from ankle to knee. When she touched it, the leaf felt cool and glossy and squelched beneath her fingers. It didn’t feel like it was her own infected flesh doing the squelching, but more like a thick layer of ointment.

“What in Heaven’s name?” she whispered, scared that if she spoke any louder she would have a breakdown.

Her trepidation lasted all of three seconds before she _did_ have a miniature breakdown.

 _“Who_ is doing this?!” she shrieked. Her own voice echoed back against the stone. “I’m not an idiot, whoever you are. I _know_ it was you who dragged me up the shore that first night, and I _know_ it was you who gave me the flint! And even if you hadn’t, _this-”_ she gestured at her leg. “-would be proof enough that you’re out there! _Thank you_ for helping me, but _please_ show yourself!”

Her voice cracked. She hadn’t felt so small in a _very_ long time. “I… I’m _scared,”_ she whimpered and curled in on herself.

For a few moments, Zira couldn’t hear anything over the sounds of her own crying. Then, she heard it.

It was a rasping, scraping sound like something _heavy_ being dragged over the ground. Zira felt her blood run cold. It was coming closer.

“Oh dear _God!”_

She made to stand, but her leg gave out and she landed hard on her side. She was wounded, trapped in a cave with some large predator, and had _nothing_ to defend herself with! Zira scrambled around for a heavy rock to use as a weapon, but the ground was as smooth as- _whatever_ it was that was smooth!

And the noise was _just getting closer!_

_I’m going to die here. I’m going to die lost and alone and half-naked on some deserted island, swallowed alive by a giant monster!_

Zira couldn’t stifle the flood of tears as she threw her arms over her head with a scream.

Then a pair of rough, but blessedly _human_ hands, covered her wrists.

“You… scared?”

The stranger’s voice was gravelly, most likely from disuse, but to Zira it sounded more beautiful than all the angelic choirs. She sobbed in relief.

“Oh thank _heavens!_ I thought for sure I was going to-”

Her words sputtered and died when she opened her eyes to look at her rescuer. It was a woman…

...from the waist up.

The woman's bare torso was thin, but well defined with small breasts (here, Zira turned red a little at the blatant nudity) and long arms lean with muscle. Her face was all angles framed by a shock of red hair that curled down her back. Her eyes were _captivating._ They were hardly normal, though, with the sclera being the color of spun gold and sliced right down the middle by a slit-shaped pupil.

That was about where the human similarities ended.

From the waist _down_ the woman’s skin melded into a _massive_ snake tail that was wider than Zira's entire body and covered in black scales with a red underbelly that matched her hair. 

Zira wasn’t quite sure what to think. She'd read plenty of stories about nagas and The Lamia (some of them a touch _racier_ than the blurb on the back cover had promised) but to actually _see_ one in person… her brain gave up thinking entirely in favor of just gaping, slack-jawed.

The naga removed one of her hands from Zira's wrist to gently guide the blonde’s mouth shut. 

“You scared. Sorry,” she said, voice soft.

Zira's mouth just popped open again with a wheezing squeak. “I… I must be dead. Or hallucinating. Only explanation really.”

The naga’s face contorted into a mixture of indignation and anger. She pressed the tips of all ten fingers to Zira's chest and whispered, “Not dead. _Safe,”_ and then pulled them back to slap at her _own_ chest with broad palms. “Saved.”

Zira blinked a few times then squawked, “You can _understand_ me?!”

The naga looked pleased with herself.

“Yes. Speak. But not good,” she boasted. “Understand better.”

Zira's mind was now racing too fast for her to properly get a grip on any one thought. This creature understood her perfectly, but seemed to struggle with translating her own thoughts into a spoken form. Was it the snake half or the human half responsible for that? The simple fact that she understood Zira at _all_ was a testament to her intelligence!

Zira sat back heavily on her haunches. It had all suddenly become too much for her already weakened constitution and the ground was very fast becoming a comfortable-looking spot to have a bit of a lie down until the world made sense again. She felt herself tip backward, but was kept from doing so by the naga’s hands clamping around her upper arm.

Like she weighed little more than a sack of flour, Zira was gathered up into a pair of whipcord arms and cradled against the naga’s breast.

“Safe. Protected. Have you,”

The creature’s chest rumbled under where Zira's cheek was pressed against it. Any individual with a scrap of self-preservation instincts would have run screaming from the cave like the Devil himself was at their heels. Zira, however, had had a _very_ difficult day and was just thankful that she hadn’t been devoured or drowned or bled out or any of the other _hundreds_ of reasons one died on a deserted island.

She would grapple with the existence of the supernatural when she _wasn’t_ feeling like a bag of rocks.

“Do you have a name?” Zira asked.

The naga shifted her tail until she could lean back against it like it was a scaly bean bag chair and replied, “Crowley. You?”

“I’m Zira Fell,”

The creature, Crowley, worked her jaw as if she were trying to get a particularly stubborn piece of spinach out of her teeth. Her forked tongue popped out for a moment before retreating.

“Z… Zir… F...” she grunted, then huffed. “Angel.”

Zira couldn’t hold back a laugh. Crowley apparently was having trouble pronouncing her name and had settled for calling her something else.

“Alright then, you can call me ‘angel’,” Zira hummed.

Crowley grinned in response, flashing a set of fangs that had Zira briefly debating if cuddling up to a monster from legend had been a wise idea. But the naga didn’t bite her. Crowley just leaned over slightly and pressed her face into the crook of the smaller woman's neck.

“Angel,” she purred.

Something tickled at Zira's pulse point and she giggled at the sensation. Too tired to fight Crowley off should she need to and too woozy to consider the ramifications of a giant snake-woman rubbing her face against her like a giant cat-woman instead, Zira just mumbled, “I might take a nap. Don’t you _dare_ eat me or I shall be quite cross!”

“Promise. No eating. Angel too sweet,”

Zira let her eyes slide shut.

 _“Mate_ too sweet,”

Her eyes snapped open again.

***~*~*~*~***

1Zira was unique in how she approached swearing. When truly upset, it was a 50/50 shot as to whether she would use standard curse-words (fuck, shit, damn, etc) or more "esoteric" ones (balderdash, Jiminy Christmas, blazes, etc)[return to text]


	2. Beginnings of a Courtship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zira's friends and family discover her disappearance and Crowley begins attempting to woo her chosen mate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note from the Author (Who is Also a Trained Medical Professional):
> 
> If exposed to a rash, cut, or burn from Fire Coral, treat it by following these steps: Rinse with seawater (avoid freshwater as it agitates the stinging cells and causes more pain), Apply a topical vinegar or Isoproryl alcohol to the affected area, Remove coral bits or stinging tentacles with a pair of tweezers, Immobilize the extremity (movement may cause the venom to spread), and apply Hydrocortisone as needed for itching. If no signs of infection are present, pain may be treated with OTC pain relivers (like ibuprofen). If signs of an allergic reaction occur, seek immediate medical help. Fire Coral allergies are rare, but they do occur.

**36 Hours Earlier**

Anathema was several drinks in and deciding whether or not she wanted to barge into the captain's cabin to flirt with the _adorable_ Captain Newton, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She spun around and nearly bumped into the Archangel Fucking Gabriel.[1]

 _"God, that big bastard can move quietly,"_ Anathema thought. " _How is he the younger sibling?"_

“Hey, Anathema, have you seen Zira? I think I may have accidentally brought up some painful memories for her earlier. I wanted to give her some space and then apologize, but I haven’t been able to find her,”

“Yeah. A little bit ago she was asking where the bathroom was so I pointed her in the right direction,”

“And how long ago was that?”

Anathema had to stop and think. It had to have been _at least_ twenty minutes. At Anathema’s pause, Gabriel felt a little twinge of concern. The smaller woman quickly scrambled to comfort him. “Ah, I’m sure ZiZi's fine. She probably just had a bit of seasickness or something. She might appreciate you checking on her, though.”

Gabriel nodded his assent and made for the restroom at the stern of the ship. He rapped a knuckle against the door.

“Are you in there, Zi? Anathema said you might have been feeling sick?”

No answer. Gabriel knocked again and repeated himself, but the silence was the same. He closed a hand over the doorknob and called out, “I’m coming in! If you’re in there, stop me before I do!”

When nobody stopped him, Gabriel opened the door. 

The bathroom was completely empty.

“Zira?”

Gabriel stepped out of the bathroom, feeling more worried than ever. He caught sight of a waiter walking by with a tray of canapes and pulled the young man aside.

“Good afternoon, sir!” The boy chirped. “I hope you and your friends are enjoying the voyage!”

“We are. Thank you. Have you seen the Guest of Honor anywhere? Zira Fell? She's two heads shorter than me, soft, with white-blonde hair down to her shoulders,”

The waiter hummed in thought before shaking his head. “Can’t say I have, sir. Would you like me to help you look for her? It’s not uncommon for guests to sometimes wander into the restricted areas of the ship.”

“I’d appreciate that. Thank you,”

The waiter passed off his tray to a colleague and began guiding Gabriel on an impromptu tour of the yacht’s underbelly. The ship wasn’t too big by _any_ stretch of the imagination, but it was a decent enough size for people to miss each other. The two of them wandered into the kitchen, storage area, and even the maintenance room, but no Zira was ever found.

By the end of it, Gabriel was _fully_ worried and even the waiter seemed perturbed.

“I’ll take you back to the upper deck, sir. Once we get there, see if anyone else has found Ms. Fell and I’ll speak to the Captain about taking a role call,”

Gabriel nodded his thanks and went to seek out Anathema again. The occultist was lounging on a deck chair and sunbathing. When Gabriel’s massive shadow blocked out the light, she lifted her sunglasses with an unamused glare.

“Can you move, Gabe? You’re a _literal_ one-man solar eclipse,”

“I can’t find Zira, and she’s not anywhere on the ship,” Gabriel blurted.

 _That_ got Anathema to sit straight up. “What? What do you mean you can’t find her?!”

The yacht’s loudspeakers crackled on and Captain Newton’s voice piped out, “Attention! Your attention please! All guests and personnel are ordered to report to the bow for an immediate head count. Repeat: Immediate head count! This is not a request!”

Several of the partygoers groaned at being interrupted _again,_ but Anathema and Gabriel just shared a tense look.

Once everyone was gathered, Captain Newton strode up and down the deck, rattling off names from the Employee and Guest Ledger. One by one, every person responded, but Zira Fell never did.

“Captain!” exclaimed a crew member, running up to Newton, out of breath. “I just performed a quick count of all the life vests. One is missing!”

“Oh that’s not good…” mumbled Captain Newton. He faced the gathered crowd. “Everyone, may I have your attention? We have a man overboard. I repeat: Man overboard.”

The crowd erupted into gasps and screams. Anathema let out a strangled wail and Gabriel surged forward to seize the smaller man by the front of his shirt.

“What the _fuck_ do you mean by ‘man overboard’?!” he snarled. “Are you telling me my sister is _out there?!”_ He waved a hand at the vast expanse of the ocean and Newton nodded weakly. “You _bastard!_ I’m gonna sue this business for _everything_ you have! I’ll-”

_"Gabriel!”_

Anathema gripped his arm and pulled him away. “It’s _not_ the Captain’s fault! It’s _nobody’s_ fault! We all signed the waiver, we _all_ knew this was a risk! All we can do now is try to look for her and contact the Coast Guard.”

Gabriel’s chest heaved and he looked like he wanted to break something. Instead he wrenched himself away to lean over the handrailing and scream Zira's name into the air. His eyes desperately scanned the horizon in the hopes of catching a glimpse of white hair or an orange life jacket, but the endless line of blue was all he could see.

“Sir, the ship has enough fuel to retrace our route to some degree, but we can’t go back all the way. We’re three-quarters of the way through the voyage, so if we can’t find Ms. Fell in the time before we use up the extra fuel, we’ll need to get back en-route and contact the Coast Guard for assistance,” Captain Newton explained, still nervous but at least marginally more composed now that he wasn’t being directly threatened.

Gabriel’s shoulders were a hard line and his hands clamped so tightly around the railing that they burned. He didn’t answer the Captain, just continued his silent vigil.

_Please, God._

_Don’t take my sister too._

***~*~*~*~***

**Present Time**

“Mate too sweet,”

Zira' eyes snapped open. She felt all of her exhaustion drain away in the wake of a surge of pure adrenaline.

_Surely she doesn’t mean…_

Zira patted Crowley’s shoulder with a frantic, nervous laugh. “Ah ha, good joke, my dear. I know you mean _friends.”_

She lifted her gaze to meet Crowley’s but the naga was just staring down at her in bafflement.

“No. Mate,” her rough hands traced down the side of Zira's face to cup her cheek, her smile unbearably tender. _“Mate.”_

_Oh **fuck** no!_

Zira pushed away from Crowley and would have landed on her back, had a large tail not caught her halfway down. The blonde struggled in its grasp, but that only seemed to encourage Crowley to tighten her coils further in fear of dropping her. Zira twisted in the naga’s hold until she could glare up at a pair of bright, slightly worried eyes.

“I can’t be your _mate!”_ Zira exclaimed.

Crowley cocked her head like a confused dog. “No? Why?”

“Ah, er, it’s-”

Zira felt the loop of tail gently deposit her back onto the ground where she sat with her legs splayed out. Crowley scooted away and fiddled with a lock of hair, looking everywhere _but_ at the human’s face.

“Already have mate?” she murmured, obviously downcast.

For some inexplicable reason, Zira couldn’t find it in herself to lie to her rescuer.

“N-no. I don’t have a- er- mate, Crowley. It’s just me I’m afraid,” she mumbled sadly, patting the naga’s massive tail.

Crowley’s entire mood shifted 180° and she let out a noise of delight.

 _“My_ mate?” she asked, excited, and patted her own chest. 

It was a question very clearly asking, _“Will you be **my** mate, then?”_

 _“No,_ Crowley!” Zira exclaimed, nearing the edge of her sanity. She didn’t _want_ to end up married to a giant snake-woman, but she _also_ didn’t want to end up eaten for _rejecting_ said giant snake-woman, so she scrambled to come up with a reasonable excuse for why they couldn’t be together. “We can’t be mates because… um… it just wouldn’t work. _Physically!”_

Crowley still looked confused, but at least she wasn’t pouting anymore. Zira waved her hands in the vague vicinity of where the human skin on the naga’s stomach met the scales of her pelvis.

“You don’t have…” Zira cleared her throat against the rising tide of embarrassment threatening to claw its way out. “...well... reproductive bits.”

Zira knew sexual activity was not the end-all-be-all of a relationship; plenty of her asexual friends had loving partners without the need for physical intimacy. However, claiming she and Crowley couldn’t be mates because the naga lacked the necessary parts to do so was her current best chance of getting out of the situation at hand.

At least, until Crowley pointed at a scale on her underbelly _("Right where genitals would be!"_ shrieked Zira's internal voice) that seemed a shaped a bit differntly than the ones below it. It was larger and oblong, almost circular, and then Zira's memories of a brief lesson on reptile reproductive capabilities during a visit to the London Zoo came crashing back to her with all the force of a flaming Bentley.

Words like “hemipenes” and "hemiclitoris" and “cloaca” swam before her vision and she had to fight to keep her face from going completely scarlet. 

“W-well... my apologies, Crowley. I did not mean to cause any offense,” she stammered.

“Mates, then?” came the excited reply.

Oh this was _terrible!_ Crowley was seemingly hell-bent on claiming Zira as a bride or a mate or _whatever_ it was that naga’s devoted their eternity to. Zira wanted to cry.

In fact, she _did_ cry.

When the first tear met the floor of the cave Crowley swooped in to cradle the human’s face in her hands. 

“Mate crying. Why? Hurt?”

“Oh, Crowley, this is… this…” Zira sniffled. She was tired, woozy, _scared,_ and she wanted to go _home._ “...this is just too _fast!_ We haven't been courting or dating or-”

Crowley released Zira's face with a long, low groan to smack at her own forehead.

 _“Sorry,_ angel. Forgot. Courting! Forgot courting!” The naga kept grumbling, “Dumb. Dumb snake. Forgot.” and Zira felt _hope_ blossoming in her chest. 

It was clear that Crowley still desired Zira as a mate, but it would appear that, in her haste, the naga had apparently forgotten to perform whatever constituted a proper mating ritual for her species. If Zira could extend the courtship until rescue arrived…

Plan fully in mind, Zira sat up straighter and folded her hands primly in her lap.

“That’s right, you silly snake,” she said in a voice far more confident than she truly felt. “If you wish for me to accept you as a mate, I need to ensure that you can provide for me, protect our nest, those sort of things.”

Zira was 95% certain that snakes didn’t _actually_ need either of those things before choosing a mate, but the way Crowley was bouncing up and down on her tail rendered it a moot point.

“Yes! Courting!” Was the naga’s elated answer. She took Zira's hands in hers. “Flowers and food and shiny rocks and protection and songs and dancing and-”

Crowley was babbling more words than Zira had ever heard her say before (granted, she had only known her a short time). The human even suspected that Crowley might have just been listing off courtship behaviors she saw other animals on his island engage in in the hopes that something would stick.

It really _was_ rather sweet…

Before she could second guess herself (and perhaps, to ensure that Crowley believed she was “serious” about being courted) Zira pulled Crowley down by her arms to press a quick kiss to her cheek.

The naga went stiff and uttered a squeak of surprise. She flinched back, covering the spot she had been kissed with her hand. “What _that?!”_

“It’s called a _kiss,_ Crowley. It’s how humans show affection,”

Crowley’s brow furrowed in contemplation. Then she uttered, “Other kinds?”

“Yes, indeed. There’s kisses on the forehead for family or comfort, kisses on the cheeks for friendship or greetings, kisses on the hands for deference or flirting, kisses on the mouth for lust or love-”

Crowley surged down and claimed Zira's mouth with her own. The closed-mouth kiss was clumsy, amateurish, and almost bruising in its pressure. Zira made a little noise of surprise, and found her hands coming to rest on Crowley’s jaw so she could ease the larger woman (snake?) back a little so their kiss was less rough.

Crowley’s lips were surprisingly soft and cool against Zira's own chapped and over-heated ones. The human tilted her head a little to better adjust the angle and Crowley let out a faint groan. The naga was the first to pull away with a flirtatious grin. “Understand _those_ kisses.”

Zira's eyes blinked open (she hadn’t even noticed they were closed) and she cleared her throat.

“Yes. Well. Now you know what kisses are and what they’re for,”

Crowley’s forked tongue darted out to lick at the corner of her mouth, as if chasing Zira's taste.

_Oh good Lord._

Zira wasn’t sure if that thought was one of disgust or… something else. When it started looking like Crowley was going to lean in for a second kiss, Zira scooted backwards.

“I’m _very much_ looking forward to being courted by you, my dear,” she nervously jabbered. “But it’s- well- I’m quite tired and-”

Crowley’s face lit up. “Nest! Show you nest!”

“Pardon me?”

Zira yelped as Crowley’s powerful arms came up around her shoulders and the backs of her knees. She flung her arms around Crowley’s neck to hold on as the naga slithered her way further into the cave. 

_She moves quite fast for someone with no legs…_

The two of them ducked into tunnels and wound past stalagmites until arriving in a room that was much smaller than the one Zira awoke in. 

This chamber was roughly the size of Zira's bedroom back in London. Several inches of warm sand were spread across the floor, with a soft, dark blanket layered on top of it. Pillows, cushions, and quilts were piled about pell mell and Zira realized that they must have been scavenged from shipwrecks on the island or from jettisoned cargo.

The walls sloped upwards and were speckled with the same moss in the rest of the cavern, but these clumps radiated a turquoise light instead that reflected off the white crystals embedded in the rock. The overall effect was not unlike the same stars that Zira had been marvelling over the previous night.

“Oh, _Crowley!_ This is…” Zira breathed.

“You like?”

If Crowley had any feet, she would surely have been shuffling them. Zira beamed up at her with watery eyes. “This is _beautiful!”_

The naga’s shoulders slumped in relief, then she started nudging some cushions into a pile with her tail. She gently deposited Zira down onto the heap.

“Stay here. Rest. Hurt,”

“Really, dear, I’m _quite_ fine,”

Zira made to move, but a powerful hand on her sternum pushed her back down into the pillows.

“No. _Stay,”_ Crowley urged, her tone booking no room for argument. “Hurt. Need rest.”

Zira knew that Crowley wasn’t planning on letting her leave their nest any time soon (a human having a nest, wasn’t that an odd thought?) so she figureds he might as well make herself comfortable until she felt strong enough to stand. She gave an experimental shimmy of her body. Oddly, none of the blankets or pillows smelled like they had been in a serpent’s den for who-knows-how-long. Instead, they smelt like the ocean breeze wafting through trellises of Moonflowers. Zira turned her head to bury her nose in the pile and inhaled deeply.

The pillows shifted and Zira rolled over to see Crowley sprawled beside her, head propped up on one hand and a smile on her face. The smile wasn’t predatory or lascivious or anything else that would have concerned Zira. Instead, it was small, tender, dreamy; like Crowley couldn’t believe her luck. The length of her tail curled around the both of them in a protective embrace.

“I know I said it earlier… or, well, _screamed_ it earlier, but thank you, Crowley,” Zira's hand twitched, then closed the distance between them to rest over Crowley’s arm. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Welcome, angel. Sleep now. I protect,”

Zira's eyes were fluttering shut and she suspected that this time they would stay that way.

“I know you will,”

***~*~*~*~***

Gabriel stood on the beach at Camber. He stared out towards the place where the falling sun met the rising tide. Behind him, he heard feet crunching across the sand.

“Gabe, please, it’s been almost two days. You need to get some rest,”

Anathema’s words had no effect on him. He simply continued watching the waves. Anathema tried using logic. “Watching the sea like you’re some kind of pining widow isn’t going to get her back. The Coast Guard is doing everything they can, and if-” She stumbled. _“-when_ they find her, they’ll let us know.”

When Gabriel finally spoke, his voice was hoarse.

“Do you think she drank anything before she fell over?”

“Huh?”

“Do you think she drank anything?” Gabriel turned to face her with red-rimmed eyes. “A human can only go three days before dying of dehydration. If she had drank some water or something before she fell in she might… she might last a bit longer.”

Anathema, for once, didn’t have an answer for him. She pulled off her glasses to rub at the bridge of her nose. Her breathing was shaky and her shoulders trembled. The idea of her best friend floating adrift, dying a slow, painful death to dehydration was too painful to think about.

So she didn’t.

She slipped her glasses back on and the corners of her mouth cracked up in an agonizing facsimile of a smile.

“Hey, maybe she got rescued by a mermaid or something. Like the protagonist in her book,”

That, surprisingly, forced a laugh out of Gabriel. “Yeah. Knowing Zira, once she was back ashore, she’d run straight to her computer to start typing up her experience.”

Anathema joined him, but their laughter was stilted and awkward. It was the kind of laugh people gave each other at the funeral of a loved one to keep from collapsing into grief.

***~*~*~*~***

A burning, scorching _pain_ forced Zira awake. She jolted upright in the nest, not even bothering to acknowledge that Crowley had been asleep practically on top of her with both arms wound around her hips. Such details were trivial compared to the searing _heat_ that was spreading outward from her calf wound. Zira doubled over with a whimper, and Crowley was instantly checking her over.

“Angel hurt? What wrong?”

 _“Pain,”_ Zira gasped. “M-my leg. Feels like _l-lava_ in my veins!”

Crowley held Zira's injured leg in one gentle hand while her other ripped away the leaf bandage. Zira groaned at the sudden movement, but didn’t otherwise protest. The gash itself looked, for the most part, healthy, but the flesh around it was an angry, inflamed red. Crowley scented the air near it with her tongue, then hissed.

 _“Fire Coral,”_ she growled. “Will fix.”

“‘Fire wha-?’ Crowley y-you aren’t making any-”

Zira was yanked out of her cozy spot into a sweeping bridal carry and then they were out of the room so fast that some of the smaller blankets were whipped into the air. The burning was getting to be almost overwhelming, and Zira was fairly certain she had left marks on Crowley’s neck from where her nails were digging into the tanned skin.

Zira whined at the motion that jostled her injured leg. A pair of cool lips pressed against her forehead.

“Kiss for comfort,” murmured Crowley.

_Damn, if that didn’t help a little…_

When they emerged from the cave into the surrounding jungle Zira moaned in slight relief. The night air felt _fantastic_ against her scorching flesh.

“Wh-where are we going?” she panted into Crowley’s collarbone.

“Ocean. Ocean water helps,”

The jungle’s dense undergrowth parted like the Red Sea before Crowley _(were those plants trembling?)_ and it wasn’t long before Zira felt droplets of sea spray on her feverish face.

“C-Cro…”

“Ssh, angel. No talking. Relax,”

Crowley slithered into the surf, carrying Zira with her. At the first touch of water on her toes, Zira pulled away with a sob. Crowley just continued “ssh”-ing her as the naga went deeper. The warm ocean water closed over Zira's legs and she expected the pain to increase. Much to her surprise, however, it had the opposite effect. The heat and agony was sapped away almost instantly under the soft undulations of the waves.

For the first time since waking up to a world of fire, Zira was able to think clearly. 

“If this keeps up I’m to run out of ways to say ‘thank you for saving me’,” Zira chuckled, unconsciously cuddling closer to Crowley. “I feel _so_ much better.”

Crowley didn’t say anything. She shifted her body so that she was sitting on her coils with one loop of them slightly in front, like she was crossing her legs (if she’d had any). Carefully, she twisted Zira around so that the human’s back was pressed against her chest and she was seated in her lap. At this angle, Zira's upper torso and head were poking above the water and Crowley was able to rest her chin atop a mess of platinum curls.

Zira didn’t hesitate to give the arms wrapped around her stomach a squeeze.

“How long do I have to stay in the water, my dear?”

“Not long. But often until healed,”

Zira let herself go completely slack in the naga’s hold. Crowley was a bit larger than her, certainly denser with the added muscle of her tail, so she held no fear of being swept away this time. She listened to the rhythmic song of the sea, felt the steady rise and fall of the chest behind her, and her mind began to wander.

She thought about Gabriel and Anathema.

_Oh, they must be worried_ _**sick.** I can’t imagine how I would feel if our roles were reversed. I hope I’m rescued soon, Gabriel’s probably devastated. Anathema’s most likely _ **_furious_ ** _with me that I was clumsy enough to fall overboard._

In truth, Zira was fighting to keep a positive attitude. There was always the very real possibility that rescue would never come. They might end the search after several unsuccessful days and write her off as just another unfortunate casualty of the ocean.

The thought of her friends and family fearing her dead forced stinging tears to Zira's eyes. She didn’t _want_ to leave her little brother all alone!

_Mother, if you can hear me, watch over Gabriel until I can come home. He’ll need the comfort now more than ever. But I promise, even if they give up on me, I_ _won’t give up on them! I’ll find_ ** _some_ **way _off this island, even if I have to build a boat myself and_ ** _row!_**

There was also one _very large_ Snake in the Room that needed to be addressed.

Crowley.

Zira's mind was still somewhat reeling from the naga’s existence. Was Crowley the only one of her kind? How long had she been living on this island for? 

_What will she do when I leave?_

That question sent a pang of _something_ unpleasant through Zira's heart. Crowley, for all her fearsome appearance and _complete_ lack of understanding of human relationships, was genuinely sweet. She was gentle, kind, and even downright snarky at times. 

Zira pictured the naga’s face twisted into a look of hurt and betrayal when she inevitably rejected her suit to return home, and that made the bad feeling in her heart double. She truly didn’t expect Crowley to try and _force_ her to remain on the island as her mate, so the feeling wasn’t fear.

It wasn’t guilt either, at least not entirely. The emotion felt like…

... _loss._

Zira jolted so hard at the appearance of the word that she would have tumbled out of Crowley’s lap had the naga not tightened her hold slightly.

“Hurt, angel?” There was concern in her voice.

“N-no, dear, I’m alright. Just a… a bit of seaweed touched my foot is all,” Zira fibbed.

Crowley hummed in agreement.

“Slimy. Not good food,”

“Well to _you_ it’s not,” huffed Zira. “I’ll have you know that a good bit of Nori can make all the difference between _good_ Inari Sushi and _bad_ Inari Sushi.”

Crowley nodded along, pretending to know what any of those foods were.

“Oh I _do_ miss sushi already,” Zira lamented.

“What ‘sushi’?”

Zira visibly lit up at the chance to expound upon one of her favorite dishes. “Well, at its simplest, sushi is steamed white rice and raw fish rolled up with dehydrated seaweed. There are _so_ many different combinations that one can never get bored!”

Crowley’s expression was unreadable, but she seemed to be contemplating something. Her amber eyes glowed faintly in the dark, and Zira could remember reading that snakes with slitted pupils tended to be ambush predators who stalked their prey in the dark of the night. Thinner pupils allowed them to regulate the amount of light entering their retinas to avoid being blinded by sudden changes in brightness.

Despite this knowledge, Zira wasn’t afraid. She may have been earlier, but there had been several times where Crowley could have easily killed her, but didn’t, regardless of her desire for a mate. 

No, much to her own shock, Zira felt completely safe in the arms and coils of this half-snake, half-woman.

“Angel alright?” Crowley asked.

_Am I?_

_…_

_Yes._

Zira re-positioned herself to where she was now fully facing Crowley, straddling her lap. “I’m quite alright, dear. Just lost in thought is all.”

“Good,” Crowley nuzzled her face against the column of Zira's throat. “Want angel happy.”

There came the most peculiar fluttering in Zira's chest (just slightly left of her sternum) at Crowley’s admission. She found herself quite suddenly possessed of the impulsive desire to kiss her new friend again.

She knew it was a reckless want, as she didn’t want to give the naga any false hope that her courtship attempts would be accepted. After all, Zira was still planning on leaving the island soon.

_Then again… I don’t want her to think I’m not interested, because then she might chase me off and I’d **really** rather not go back to trying to survive on my own._

_And, well, I_ **_should_ ** _thank her for all the times she’s helped me today._

_What’s one little kiss going to hurt?_

That was what Zira told herself as she slid a hand behind Crowley’s neck to guide the other’s head down. Their mouths met in a kiss that was _much_ more tender than the first. This time Crowley took the initiative to tilt her head for a better angle. 

_She's certainly a fast learner. I wonder if…_

Instead of keeping the kiss chaste, Zira coaxed Crowley’s mouth open with her own and then softly closed it again. The naga made a noise of surprise and delight that Zira took to mean she was doing a good job.

The human detached their lips with a quiet little smacking sound. Crowley whined as if she had been denied her favorite treat and chased after some more kisses, but Zira held her back with a palm on her shoulder. “Oh no you don’t, you foul fiend! You only get the one for tonight.”

Crowley growled in playful frustration before crossing her arms with a huff. Zira laughed at the other’s pantomimed outrage. In retaliation, the tip of the naga’s tail popped out from under the water to splash Zira's face, who sputtered in indignation.

The two of them glared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into raucous laughter. Their shared mirth echoed long into the night until Zira was forced to catch her breath.

“Alright, my dear, I think I’m feeling well enough to sleep through the rest of the night,” she chuckled while wiping away a tear.

“You sure? Can sleep here. Will protect,”

“No, I’m certain. I’d like to go back to our nest,”

At the mention of “our nest”, Crowley’s eyes and smile were delighted. By this point Zira had gotten rather used to being carried around, and didn’t flinch or fuss when she was lifted out of the water.

No, she simply burrowed deeper into her friend’s arms and allowed herself to be taken back to what was rapidly starting to become her new sanctuary.

***~*~*~*~***

1Nicknamed after a _disastrous_ nativity play the previous year wherein Gabriel was supposed to have been lowered slowly onto the stage for the Annunciation bit but was instead dropped like a sack of potatoes. He had landed hard on his knee and swore so colourfully that it's rumored that the children that were in attendance still repeat it to this day.[return to text]


	3. Harvest Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zira and Crowley accidentally press each other's kink buttons (okay MAYBE not-so "accidentally")

_It’s hard to tell how long you’ve been asleep when you’re in a cave._

This was Zira's first thought as she groggily rejoined the waking world. Without fully opening her eyes, she gave a testing stretch of her injured leg. It still hurt, and the burning had returned slightly, but she could tell she had some time before it truly flared up again.

She rolled from her side onto her back and finally opened her eyes.

Crowley was hovering over her, both arms bracketing in the human below her. The naga’s brow was furrowed up in the middle, with the corners of her mouth downturned. 

Zira, to her credit, didn’t flinch or scream at suddenly finding herself being watched, though she _did_ utter a tiny squeak of surprise.

“O-oh. Good morning, Crowley. Is everything alright?” Zira's gentle voice released the tension in the naga’s shoulders.

“Worried. You slept long. Sun is high,” she mumbled.

“Oh, my dear, I’m sorry to have frightened you. I was just very tired is all,” the blonde reassured, then reached up to caress the face directly above her own.

The sudden rumbling of her stomach sounded deafening in the stillness of their nest and Zira tittered with embarrassment. Crowley, however, looked excited and reached over to grab some kind of green bundle from the other side of the cushion pile.

Zira instinctively held out her hands and the naga deposited the lump into Zira's waiting grasp.

The human wasn’t _quite_ sure what she was looking at.

It appeared to be an intact sheaf of seaweed that had been left out to bake in the sun and then wrapped around a _raw, still slightly wriggling, fish._

“What… what is this?” Zira asked.

Crowley spread her arms wide, as if giving a presentation. “Sushi!”

Zira's lower lip quivered.

Crowley had _remembered_ her expressing sadness at not being able to enjoy one of her favorite foods. The naga had also _paid attention_ to Zira's ramblings about how to make it, then, apparently while the human was still asleep, snuck out of the nest to gather what ingredients she could to prepare it for her chosen mate.

It was so… so _touching!_

Unfortunately, Zira couldn’t just sit there and bite into a whole raw fish. At least, not without getting a mouthful of bones and a terrible case of the runs. Crowley’s gesture was thoughtful, but ultimately pointless. She couldn’t just _say_ that, though! 

Crowley would be so disappointed that she had failed to make her happy, and Zira couldn’t abide the thought of hurting the redhead’s feelings. 

But maybe she could…

Zira unwrapped the bundle and held out the limp fish to Crowley.

“Thank you for the lovely sushi, dear. How about we share it?” she asked, and pressed the fish into the naga’s hand.

Zira, to demonstrate, then took a nibble out of “her half” of the sushi: the seaweed. She was prepared for a slimy, spongy texture, but it was actually fairly crispy with an earthy taste perfectly complemented by the sea-salt clinging to its surface.

She looked up to see if Crowley was eating and almost regretted doing so.

Snakes swallowed their prey whole, humans chewed their food, and Crowley… Crowley was doing some weird combination of the two.

The naga had brought the fish to her mouth and proceeded to crunch down on its spine. She didn’t tear off any chunks, but kept gnawing at it like she was trying to tenderize the meat with her teeth. Then, when the fish was no longer recognizable as a once-living creature (more of a paste, really), Crowley tipped her head back to swallow the entire mess in one gulp.

Zira was suddenly very, _very_ thankful that Crowley had chosen her as a mate rather than prey.

“Thanks, angel,” the naga grinned through blood-stained teeth matted with scales.

Zira looked away and finished eating her seaweed.

“Think nothing of it, Crowley,”

***~*~*~*~***

When the burning pain from her leg wound returned, Zira asked Crowley to carry her back to the beach for another soak in the ocean before it got any worse.

Half-submerged in the water, seated on her friend’s lap once more, Zira turned her leg over to stare down at it through the crystalline water.

“It looks like it’s getting better. I’ll probably be able to walk either today or tomorrow,” she remarked happily.

Crowley just rumbled from somewhere in her chest and pulled Zira back against her.

“Shame. Like carrying you,”

Zira giggled.

“Well, in that case, you can carry me whenever you want. Just let me walk _some_ of the time, you silly serpent,”

“Deal,”

Like the night previously, Zira squirmed around so that she was facing Crowley and, as a consequence, the shore. She caught sight of her old clothes bleached from the sun and half-buried in the sand. She sighed and rested her cheek on Crowley’s shoulder.

“You okay, angel?” the naga asked. “Sad? Hurt?”

“No, my dear, I’m fine. I just _really_ need to find some way of washing what little clothing I have. I can’t be walking around as, er- _free_ as you do and I’d like to try and take care of them before they completely disintegrate. A freshwater spring with some soap would be preferable, but I suppose I could make do with seawater and a rock…”

“Soap and water? Know where those are,”

“Wait, really? How do you have _soap_ all the way out here?!” Zira exclaimed.

Crowley just shrugged. “Crates wash up. Scavenge them. Lots of things inside.”

“Where do you keep them?”

“In the nest. Further in. Looooots of things,”

Zira couldn’t believe her luck. If Crowley was telling the truth, and not exaggerating or miscounting, then there could be something in there she could use to contact help. A phone would be less than useless, but perhaps a long-distance battery-powered radio? Maybe even signal flares! It was a longshot, but one Zira was willing to take.

She reached up and tugged on a lock of scarlet hair to catch her friend’s attention. A full-bodied shiver ran throughout the entire length of Crowley’s body down to the tip of her tail accompanied by a faint, breathless moan.

Zira decided she would address that later.

“Can you show me, dear? It’d make me _very happy,”_

Admittedly, she was probably leaning a _bit_ too heavily on Crowley’s desire to please her, but the naga didn’t seem to be complaining. The redhead just blinked once (she really didn’t do much of that) then nodded, her lips slightly parted and eyes half-lidded.

“Y-yeah, angel,” the naga murmured.

When Zira was picked up, she could see a rosy flush creeping along Crowley’s face. 

The larger being paused to wrap her tail around Zira's old clothes pile, then towed it behind her as they made their way back to the nest.

***~*~*~*~***

Gabriel was hunched over the desk in his study, face buried in his arms, when he heard the doorbell ring. Hope _and_ trepidation arose within him in equal measure. It had been 65 hours since Zira went missing, just under three days, and the Coast Guard had yet to find any sign of her. On the one hand, if she hadn’t been found _at all,_ it meant she hadn’t been found _dead._ No news was good news after all, or so Gabriel kept reminding himself. 

On the other, Zira could just as likely have drowned and her corpse sank to the bottom of the ocean.

_But she had a life jacket on. She wouldn’t just **sink.**_

A second ringing of the doorbell compelled Gabriel to move. He was praying that it was the Coast Guard coming to deliver good news (and _not_ standing there with their hats in their hands and an apologetic expression), but it was unlikely. They would have called instead.

Gabriel hurried to the door and threw it open. 

Anathema was standing on the stoop with a tinfoil-covered plate in her hands. She didn’t give Gabriel a chance to ask her why she was there before thrusting the plate into his hands and stepping over the threshold.

“I brought you something to eat ‘cause I’m worried about you, Gabe. I’ve tried calling you all day and-” her eyes roamed over his rumpled appearance. “-and you’re still wearing the same clothes from the party! Have you even _slept?!”_

Gabriel put the plate on the coffee table and dragged his hands down his face. “I _can’t_ sleep, Anathema. What if the Coast Guard calls? Or Zira?”

“Then they’ll take her to a hospital and _call back,”_ was Anathema’s frustrated answer.

Her hands were folded on her hips, but despite the intimidating aura she was trying to give off, Gabriel could tell that she herself was just barely keeping it together. She hadn’t bothered putting her long, dark hair up in her usual half-bun, and her eyes were marked with visible stress lines.

Gabriel staggered over to the sofa and dropped heavily into it. He bent double at the waist to grip the sides of his head.

“This is all my fault,” he whispered hoarsely. “If I hadn’t thrown that _stupid_ party…”

“No!” Anathema snapped. “I will _not_ have you blaming yourself for Zira's disappearance. If you _insist_ on doing so, however, then I deserve at least half of it. I could have escorted her to the restroom myself or even gone to find her when she didn’t come back for more than five minutes! If _you’re_ at fault, then _I’m_ at fault!”

Gabriel’s head jerked up. 

“Anathema, _no!_ That’s- you can’t blame yourself for not taking her to the bathroom like a toddler! That’s… that’s _ridiculous!”_ he exclaimed, rising to stand in front of her.

“Yes! _See?!_ It’d be _stupid_ for me to blame myself, just like to would stupid for you to blame _yourself,”_ the occultist expounded.

She heaved a great sigh when it didn’t seem like Gabriel believed her, then picked up the plate to bring to the kitchen. “I’m going to stay with you until tomorrow. You need some sleep, so I’ll stay up tonight to keep an eye on your phone. I promise to wake you if the Coast Guard calls.”

Her authoritative tone left no room for argument. Neither Gabriel nor Zira had ever been good at defying her, anyway. The younger of the Fell siblings returned to his seat on the couch. He didn’t need to thank Anathema for her help, she already knew how grateful he was.

***~*~*~*~***

“Good _Lord,_ Crowley, how long have you been salvaging these things?!”

Further in the naga’s cave, past the small room that housed their nest, was a _much_ larger one seemingly dedicated to nothing but storing pillaged boxes, crates, and whatever other containers washed up on the island.

Chests and cartons were stacked as tall as five high, with many others teetering precariously. A number of them had been smashed open to get at the goodies within. This was, presumably, where Crowley had found all the bedding for their nest. The naga adjusted how she held Zira, then started counting on her fingers to calculate how many years she had been gathering miscellaneous flotsam and jetsam.

When she ran out of fingers she just shrugged and replied, “Long time.”

“Yes… I can see that…”

Zira's eyes roamed over the chaos. It was _almost_ as cluttered as her flat back home. She didn’t know where to start first!

She spotted a crate labelled “Oaxu Electronics” at the base of a pyramid of barrels and asked Crowley to sit her down beside it. The nails keeping the lid shut had mostly rusted away so Zira was able to work her fingers under the latch and wrench the lid off.

In doing so, however, she jostled the stack of barrels. It wobbled unevenly and then the topmost one, larger than Zira's entire torso, pitched over to drop on top of her. 

The human shrieked and covered her head, but the skull-crushing blow never came. Crowley’s hand had shot out and caught the barrel in her palm like it weighed nothing more than a basketball. The thing had to have been at least 25 kilos, but the naga’s arm didn’t so much as strain beneath the burden.

Zira gaped open-mouthed as Crowley tossed the barrel from one hand to another and then placed it down somewhere out of the way.

_Oh good Heavens, that **strength!**_

“You staring,”

Crowley’s smirk was both teasing and unbearably smug. Zira's face turned almost as red as the other woman’s hair.

“Yes, well, I shan’t lie to you. Your strength is quite, er, _impressive,”_ the blonde murmured and cast her eyes down to hide the burning of her cheeks.

Zira startled as a hand slammed against the Oaxu crate, caging her against it. Crowley lowered herself down until he was eye-level with Zira, face inches away.

“Saved angel again,” she purred. “Kiss for reward, maybe?”

Zira slumped down against the crate until she was almost completely lying on her back on the ground. Her heartbeat was pounding in hear ears and it wasn’t from fear.

_"Definitely not fear,"_ she thought somewhat frantically.

She couldn’t deny facts anymore. There was certainly somewhat of a physical attraction towards Crowley simmering along with the burgeoning affection she had for her mystical friend. It didn’t hurt that the naga was pleasant to look at; all sharp angles and sharper gazes. 

Crowley was a study in contrasts. 

She was dangerous, with a powerful tail that could no doubt crush a man in its coils and fangs strong enough to tear through flesh. Her physical toughness was matched only by her tenacity as reflected in her pursuit of Zira and will to thrive. How Crowley hadn’t gone mad from isolation was anyone’s guess.

_Perhaps she_ _**is** mad to want me of all people…_

However, beneath the power and the monstrous appearance, there was a kind, gentle soul more beautiful than any human Zira had met before. Crowley was very sweet, treating her like a treasure to be valued and protected; to be _loved._

Zira wasn’t quite sure if Crowley, being what she was, was even _capable_ of love. Did she even _know_ what it was? Did she feel it and just not have a word for it?

Why was Zira even asking herself these questions? It didn’t matter. Zira would hopefully be gone soon and then she could put this whole “castawayed with an amorous snake monster” thing behind her.

_In that case I may as well just give her that reward she wants, then._

_"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that’s why you’re kissing her,"_ snarked a voice that sounded _suspiciously_ like Anathema’s whenever she called her out on her nonsense. _"I’m sure it has_ _ **nothing** to do with those __**strong** arms or those __**gorgeous** eyes…"_

“That’s quite enough out of you!”

“Angel?”

_Oh goodness! Did I say that last part out loud?_

Zira entwined her hands together behind Crowley’s head. “It’s nothing, my dear. I’m just being silly.”

Crowley visibly relaxed and Zira pulled her down until she was practically on top of her. “Now what was that about a reward?”

The span between her question and their kiss was less than a second. Crowley copied what Zira had done last night and moved their lips in a dance that anyone would consider to be sensual, even without the introduction of tongue.

_Oh thank Heavens her breath doesn’t smell like raw fish and blood!_

Without her consciously aware of doing so, Zira's knees pulled up slightly to cradle the other’s hips between them. 

Crowley, ever the snakey gentlewoman, broke the kiss.

She had only been rewarded _one,_ after all.

“I…” Zira's eyes explored the soft lines of her friend’s face. “...I didn’t ‘thank’ you for the sushi earlier, did I?”

Crowley only seemed mildly surprised. “No. Did not,” she murmured and leaned back in for her second reward.

Zira's hands were no longer holding onto each other, but were now wound loosely through thick tresses of imperial-red hair that were surprisingly silky. Zira gave a quick pull of them, just a bit harder than she had earlier, and eagerly swallowed up the ensuing groan from Crowley.

The blonde began to wonder how long she’d be able to keep pretending to trade favors for kisses before she dropped the pretense entirely to just give them freely.

_‘Give them freely’?! Have you lost your mind?! You need to get_ ** _home_** , _not waste your time snogging wild snake-women!_

For once, Zira was in agreement with her internal monologue. She _couldn’t_ allow herself to get distracted!

_"Or attached,"_ Imaginary-Anathema’s voice pointed out.

Zira freed her hands to push against Crowley’s shoulders. The naga lifted herself away, but not without a half-hearted grumble of protest.

Zira pushed herself back up into a seated position with a, “That was very lovely, my dear, but I’d like to spend some time looking through these crates.”

“Anything for you, angel,” Crowley managed to say through the pleasant haze of oxytocin swirling in her brain.

***~*~*~*~***

After digging through the crate of Oaxu Electronics and sifting through the graphics cards, wireless mouses, and lengths of various cables within, Zira was no closer to finding the oft-dreamt-of radio. She stared into the empty crate in defeat.

She was silent, but a fierce internal battle was raging. There were still _plenty_ of other containers; any one of them could contain a radio. Unfortunately, it would take _weeks_ to sort through them all; weeks that Zira didn’t _have._ She needed to find a radio _yesterday!_

Her turmoil, however, had nothing to do with the lack of radio and _everything_ to do with the naga curled around both her and the crate, using her tail as a pillow while she snoozed. Zira considered asking Crowley to help her find a radio. She doubted the naga understood what a radio was, much less what it was used for, but she wasn’t quite comfortable with taking that risk. She didn’t want Crowley finding out what she was planning, but she _also_ didn’t want to waste her time on an arduous task if the redhead could simply point a finger and say, “It’s in there.”

In the end, laziness won out.

Zira lightly tapped on her sleeping friend’s face with a whisper of, “Crowley, dear, wake up.”

Crowley’s eyes opened and, not for the first time, Zira was struck by the luminous colour of them. The naga’s slitted pupils dilated, then contracted as they adjusted to the glow of the cave fungus.

“Hmmm…” Crowley stretched her arms above her head (Zira _did not_ stare at the way the muscles beneath her skin flexed) with a languid purr. “Angel need something?”

“Yes, my dear. You wouldn’t happen to have a radio amongst your treasures, would you?”

Crowley cocked her head like she always did when confused. “What is ‘radio’?”

_Thank goodness. She doesn’t know what it is. I can work with this._

“Well, a radio is a small metal box shaped like a rectangle,” Zira traced the shape of it in the air. “It has a little stick at the top called an ‘antenna’ and people use them to, uh, listen to music.”

Crowley perked up at the mention of “music”.

“Yes! Music! For courtship! Singing and dancing too! Angel sing?”

“Not professionally, I’m afraid. Though, I do enjoy a good tune in the shower as well as a rowdy pub ballad with friends,”

Crowley dragged her tail forward until it was piled in front of herself and she could prop her elbows and head on it. “Sing for Crowley?”

Zira chuckled nervously. She hadn't performed for anyone since that _awful_ Nativity play last year,[1] but Crowley's expression was just so _earnest._ She truly _did_ want to hear Zira serenade her.

Just as she did with the kissing, Zira asked herself what the harm would be. She took a deep breath, then sang the first tune that came to mind.

_“But there’s a full moon risin’._

_Let's go dancin’ in the light._

_We know where the music’s playin’._

_Let’s go out and feel the night._

_Because I’m still in love with you,_

_I wanna see you dance again,_

_Because I’m still in love with you,_

_On this Harvest Moon._

_When we were strangers,_

_I watched you from afar._

_When we were lovers,_

_I loved you with all my heart.”_

Gabriel had been the one to first show her the song and, though Zira wasn't much of a fan of contemporary American[2] music, the lyrics had been so wistful and the instrumentals so full of yearning for something lost that Zira found herself enraptured.

Crowley seemed to be feeling the same way, judging by how her face had gone slack with wonder. Her love-struck gaze was so unrepentantly vulnerable that Zira stumbled over the next verse and her impromptu show ended.

“T-there you have it,” she stammered, fiddling with the lace hem of her panties. “Now it’s your turn. Tit for tat, as it were.”

“Whatever you want, angel,” Crowley repeated, voice sounding far away.

Crowley’s song had no words, but the tune was beautiful, almost otherworldly. It reverberated off the cavern walls and sounded to Zira like it was coming from everywhere at once. Crowley’s voice was low, but powerful in a way that the blonde hadn’t known she’d enjoy until that very moment.

It started airy to sweep delicately up half an octave where it hovered steadily in that range before sloping down into a deep vibrato. From there, the notes faded to silence after one more miniscule upward climb on the scale.

Zira lifted a trembling hand to her mouth. 

“Oh, my _dear._ You’re… _beautiful,”_

Crowley made a “hrrrngh” noise, his her face in her tail, and shook her head.

“ _Not._ _You_ beautiful. _Angel_ beautiful,”

Zira scoffed and scooted on her rear to sit in front of Crowley and pet her scales.

“ _Don’t_ discount yourself,” she lectured, bristling at his friend’s lack of self-worth “Your voice is _stunning_ and you’re beautiful inside _and_ out. Why just look at you! Such exquisite hair, and a very gorgeous tail. Your scales are so smooth!” She continued her caressing, fingertips dancing across the iridescent tail, heedless of the naga’s quick, shallow breathing. “And… I’ve never _seen_ such… _magnificent_ eyes.”

The last thread of Crowley’s fragile control snapped.

She surged across the barrier of her tail to grip Zira by her upper arms and haul her up for a desperate kiss. The human “eeped” in surprise but went without a complaint.

Zir's hands came around Crowley’s back to dig her nails into powerful shoulder blades.

“Mmph… _angel_ …” the naga gasped into Zira's open mouth.

“I’ve got you, dear,”

The blonde detached her lips to mouth gently at the pulse point on her friend’s throat, disregarding the little voice in her own head screaming at her to _stop, stop you fool!_

“Will find radio for you,” Crowley panted. “More music and singing and dancing for Courtship!”

_Right. Yes. Radio. Escape. Jolly good!_

_…_

_It can wait a bit, surely?_

“Oh that silly thing isn’t going anywhere. In fact, _I’m_ more interested in the fact that you told me there was _soap_ somewhere in one of these boxes,” Zira said, waving off all thoughts of radios for the time being.

“Yes! Crowley uses it!” the naga remarked, golden eyes regarding the heaps of boxes around them and trying to remember where she left the one that contained the supplies in question. “Think it… there!”

Crowley stretched her tail out to curl it around a little pallet stacked high with small, white boxes labelled, “Tranquil Bay Hotel”. She pulled the pallet forward until it was close enough for Zira to take a box and pop it open.

Inside was an array of scallop-shell-shaped soaps in a rainbow of colors, each one half the size of Zira's fist. Crowley reached into the box and picked up an orange-colored one.

“This _best_ one,” the naga gestured with it.

Zira gave it a delighted sniff. “Oh! Berry! _Excellent_ taste, my dear!”

The blonde probed through the hotel soap box until she produced a soft pink one. 

“I personally prefer floral scents,”

Crowley scrunched up her nose in distaste.

“Quit looking at me like I just kicked a puppy. They really aren’t _that_ bad, look,” Zira took the miniature bar of soap and swiped it on the inside of her wrist. She then held her arm out under the naga’s nose.

Crowley took the provided hand and held it to her face.

“Like smell on _you,”_ she rumbled and pressed a delicate kiss to the inner wrist. “But want _my_ smell on you.”

“Like the berries or…?”

Crowley answered by rubbing her cheek against Zira's arm and passing it under her chin. Her forked tongue darted out to flutter across the human’s skin, then hummed at what she scented, pleased.

Zira flushed at the show of possessiveness and the accompanying curl of heat that coiled low in her belly.

“T-that’s, um, w-w-we- I mean _I_ \- wecandoboth!” she stumbled.

Crowley parted her lips enough to delicately scrape a fang across the pale flesh of the human’s wrist, leaving a thin red line that didn’t break the skin. She lifted her burning eyes.

“Deal,”

Zira's thoughts were tumbling into a well churning with something she wasn’t ready to name. She pulled her hand back to cradle it against her own chest, unknowingly directly over her heart.

“Suppose you could show me that freshwater source you mentioned?” came her low question.

**(The Song From This Chapter)**

***~*~*~*~***

1Zira, playing Mary, had a little musical number to perform about her darling husband's failed attempts at finding a room for her. Unfortunately, halfway through, the microphone had died. Zira didn't have a powerful voice by _any_ stretch of the imagination, so she was forced to practically _shout_ the song directly at the audience. The children in the front row had wept and clung to their mothers, asking why "Mary" was angry with them.[return to text]

2Kilometers away, Gabriel was suddenly possessed by the inexplicable urge to shout, "Neil Young is _Canadian,_ Zi!"[return to text]


	4. On the Ability to Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zira continues grappling with her burgeoning feelings towards Crowley and makes a new friend.

The “freshwater spring” that Crowley had been referring to was quite different than Zira had pictured. When the redhead brought her further into the jungle to show her, she parted a curtain of vines with a proud, “Can I get a wahoo?”

They were standing at the base of a wide cliff-face where a thunderous waterfall poured over the edge seven stories up. The spray from it cast rainbows across the glistening outcroppings halfway down that bisected the waterfall into two separate streams which poured into a large, deep rockpool at the bottom.

“You can drink and wash here!” Crowley boasted.

Zira lifted her fist with a tiny, “Wahoo!” and the naga laughed in response.

“Let me down, dear, I want to see if I can walk the rest of the way myself,” Zira said.

“You sure? I can still carry you,”

“I’m fine, dear. Let me try,”

It was with a noticeable measure of reluctance that Crowley did so. She hovered uncertainly around Zira, ready to snatch her back up at a moment’s notice should the human show so much as a _hint_ of pain. 

When Zira put her weight on the injured leg, it wobbled a bit, but otherwise held steady. 

“This is _much_ better!” was her pleased statement.

“Glad angel feels better,” Crowley murmured.

The naga _did_ look happy, but she also seemed somewhat disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to hold Zira close anymore. Zira looked up at her, at the scant few yards from where they stood to the rockpool, then back up at Crowley again.

With a mental shrug, she gave a phony cry and stumbled forward, directly into her friend’s open arms.

“Angel?”

“Oh, goodness me! Seems I’m not quite as recovered as I thought I was. Would you be a dear and help me over to the water?” Zira moued with a fluttering of long eyelashes.

Crowley rolled her serpentine eyes, fully aware of the blonde’s silly little attempt at cheering her up.

She didn’t let go, however.

The two of them approached the water whereupon Zira was set down for real this time. Crowley held out the bundle of old clothing and soap clutched in her tail. “Thank you very much, dear. I’m going to get out of these old underthings and give everything a good scrub,” Zira said.

There was a moment of silence between her and Crowley.

Then another.

“Well? Go on then, shoo. Let me have some privacy,” was the smaller of the two’s request.

“Why?”

“‘Why’?! You can’t expect me to just- just- _disrobe_ in front of you!” the blonde exclaimed, thoroughly scandalized.

It was _one_ thing to be walking around in her bra and panties (in Zira's mind, doing so was no different than walking around in a bikini at the beach and this _was_ an extenuating circumstance), it was _another_ to strip completely naked in plain sight of a large humanoid snake with ardent inclinations towards her.

Crowley, however, didn’t appear to understand that. Granted, the naga never wore any clothes herself, but _surely_ she could understand Zira's desire for privacy, if nothing else?

Apparently not, as Crowley hadn’t yet picked up the waves of embarrassment Zira was trying to put out.

In a way, though, the redhead’s laissez-faire attitude towards nudity was refreshing. Crowley didn’t slither around the island without clothes because she was trying to be sensual or tempting, but simply because it felt _right_ to her. She hadn’t once commented on Zira's relative state of undress either. To her, nudity was simply a state of being; not a precursor to anything else or something to be embarrassed by.

So Zira supposed she shouldn’t be bothered by it either.

Not giving herself the chance to second-guess himself, Zira shucked off her panties in one quick movement and unclasped her bra. 

Crowley didn’t do anything. She simply bent over to gather up the smaller woman’s old clothes and pass them to her.

“Here, angel,” she said.

Zira felt blindsided. Crowley had spent the last two nights trying her hardest to woo her into a romantic and sexual relationship (insomuch as one could reasonably _be_ in a relationship with a monster from legend), but open seeing the object of her desires _stark naked,_ nothing had come of it.

There’d been no hungry gazes, no overwhelming desire to take and _claim,_ not even so much as a cheeky pinch on her rear. Crowley had just curled up on her tail to stand guard.

Zira wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

“I’ll start washing these. Is there a place I can hang them out to dry?” she asked, trying to keep the small twinge of defeat out of her voice.

As she bent over to dump the clothes into the spring, she heard something from behind her. It was a faint, barely perceptible noise that sounded like, “ngk”.

Zira froze.

_Was that…?_

She peeked over her shoulder. Crowley’s face was a mask of careful nonchalance and her eyes were focused on the ground where she was lazily tracing circles in the dirt. 

The serpent’s indifference would have been _almost_ believable were it not for the slight blush dusted across her cheeks. The corner of Zira's mouth twitched in a repressed smirk.

Calling on all her skills of being a bit of a bastard, she stood up and stretched her arms over her head, taking extra care to arch her back at the same time she released a dainty, breathless moan.

“Hnnn…” Crowley whimpered.

_Gotcha._

Zira spun around so fast that Crowley wasn’t able to look away in time. The redhead looked _very much_ like she had just been caught with her hand in the biscuit tin.

“Ah- uhm- angel- that-”

Zira sidled over to place the flat of her palms atop her friend’s scaled tail.

“Crowley, my dear...” she pouted. “Do you think I’m too soft?”

The naga’s mouth went flat and her eyebrows creased.

“Huh?”

Zira made a noncommittal noise and turned to the side. She ran her hands over her own shoulders, down the length of his torso, past her breast, over her stomach, and finally came around to rest just above the generous swell of her arse. She noted with no small amount of satisfaction that Crowley’s eyes followed the path of her hands like a hawk watching a hare.

“I just worry sometimes that I’m a little too… fluffy to be seen as attractive to others. When we were children, my younger brother Gabriel used to tease me about it mercilessly,” Zira sighed, sounding all the world like it was a genuine, innocent inquiry.

“N-no! Soft is not bad! Soft is good! Soft is very…” Crowley inhaled shakily. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and she was now staring unabashedly at where Zira's hands currently rested. _“...very_ good.”

Zira did a happy little wiggle. “Thank you, my dear. I’m glad I can count on you to give me your honest opinion.”

She pivoted to return to the rockpool, hips sashaying the entire way. Crowley’s brain took a moment to reboot, but when it did, she yelled out, “Hey! You are teasing me!”

“Am I now? That doesn’t seem _at all_ like me,” Zira smirked insolently with a coy glance over her shoulder. “Are you sure you weren’t just misreading the-” Her words were cut off as she found herself lifted up. “Crowley, what are you-”

Then she was soaring through the air to plunge face-first into the spring. It was a testament to how deep it was that Zira didn’t even hit the bottom from her impromptu cannon-ball. 

Crowley’s mocking laughter was what greeted her upon resurfacing.

“‘Tit for tat’, angel!” the naga howled.

Zira glared at her through sodden curls before taking a deep breath and diving under again. When Crowley finished wiping away her tears of mirth, the blonde was nowhere to be seen.

“Angel?” She crawled over on her belly to peer into the water. “Angel?”

Zira surged up through the water and wrapped her arms around Crowley’s neck. “Surprise!” Then she yanked her down.

Crowley was heavy, but Zira had a fair amount of strength herself, and was able to drag her friend under the water before the other could so much as flinch. The naga popped back up for air, hissing angrily.

“You will regret that,”

“Oh no you don’t! _Back,_ fiend!”

It quickly devolved into a game of keep-away, with Zira paddling backwards just out of the reach of Crowley’s grasping hands and Crowley, in turn, undulating her tail to chase after her. Their shared laughter bounced off the surrounding cliff face, echoing back the sounds of joy. Zira's giggling was swiftly replaced by a yelp when she backed up too far and ended up drenched by the frigid waterfall. The force of it nearly bent her double and she lurched forward to get away from it, driving herself straight up against Crowley’s slender chest.

“Ha! Caught you!”

Crowley wasted no time in driving her fingers under Zira's ribs and tickling her mercilessly.

“S-stop! Crowley! D-don’t- don’t you _dare,_ you demon!” the blonde shrieked as she writhed.

The larger woman was relentless. Zira tried to squirm away, but that only drove her further backwards towards the waterfall again. “N-no, please! Have mercy!”

“No mercy for teasing angels!”

At the first touch of the chilly water on her shoulders, Zira threw herself at Crowley to get away; she’d take fiendish tickles over the cold _any day._ The naga met her halfway to support Zira's weight with hands on the backs of her thighs as her arms crossed behind Crowley’s neck and her legs wrapped around a snakeish waist before hooking together at the ankles. 

“I submit! I submit!”

The body she clung to went abruptly stiff. Zira didn’t notice and huffed, “You _win,_ you horrid thing. I shan’t tease you anymore. Now would you _kindly_ move away from the waterfall so I don’t die of hypothermia?”

“S-sure, angel,”

Crowley floated away from the source of Ezra’s discomfort. The human went slack with her cheek smushed against Crowley’s shoulder, thankful to be away from that _dreadful_ cold. The tanned skin beneath her was so pleasantly warm that Zira pressed herself a smidge closer to leech off some of that precious heat.

She sighed. “This is nice. Mmh… _you_ feel nice.”

Crowley’s calloused palms kneaded at Zira's thighs. “You feel nice too, angel.”

All at once Zira remembered where she was.

She wasn’t in some romantic grotto having a playful bit of fun with her lover.

She was on a _deserted island_ with a _giant snake monster who wanted to make her her mate_ and she had _no way_ of contacting her family to let them know she was still alive.

_Radio. Escape._ _**Home.** Have you forgotten “home” already, Zira?! For goodness's sake get your act together!_

Zira unlatched her legs from where they encircled Crowley’s hip and she moved away. In that moment she wanted nothing more than a little bit of time to herself to get her treacherous thoughts back on track.

“Crowley,” she began. “That sushi you made for me this morning was absolutely delightful, but I’m hungry for something a bit different. Do you think you could bring me a few of those coconuts from the beach?”

Crowley looked like she felt like there was something else bothering her chosen mate, but she chose not to comment on it.

“Sure, angel. Be back soon,”

She heaved her lengthy body out of the water and was soon weaving her way through the undergrowth.

Zira waited until Crowley was out of sight, then sank down into the water until only her nose and eyes remained above it. She exhaled, watching the bubbles float to the surface and pop in front of her face.

She _needed_ to stay focused.

Crowley may be sweet and kind and funny and beautiful and-

_Focus, Zira!_

Yes! Focus! Right! 

Zira leaned against the edge of the rock pool and smacked her forehead. What was _wrong_ with her? She mentally retraced her steps in an attempt to figure out just how she had ended up so distracted. 

_Alright, I met a snake-woman who is determined to make me her mate for whatever reason; can’t imagine it has anything to do with how I look… but then again, she_ **_does_ ** _think I’m beautiful. She's said so as much several times and she gains nothing by lying to me. She's so much more **gorgeous**_ _than me, though! Why on earth would she want_ **_me?_ **

_Why am I even allowing this “courtship” to continue?! Crowley’s made it perfectly clear that she’s not a violent being, so rejecting her poses no risk to my safety._

Zira's stomach twisted in a very unpleasant way. She could justify it to herself until she turned blue in the face, but she knew the truth. 

She was taking advantage of Crowley.

Zira was aware that the redhead wasn’t entitled to a relationship with her; she was not a machine that Crowley could just put “Courtship Coins” into and receive a mate in return. No, the fault for that was her own. She kept teasing Crowley, baiting her on, keeping her _just_ out of arm’s reach but with a flirtatious little smirk and whispered words of consent that told the other woman that her efforts would soon be reciprocated.

_I really am the worst…_

The kinder, more _ethical_ thing to do would have been to be upfront about her feelings; to tell Crowley in no uncertain terms that Zira _wasn’t_ planning to remain on the island to be her mate, no matter how hard the other tried to court her.

_But… then she’d be so **sad…**_

Faced with the reality of Crowley’s heartbreak at Zira's rejection, the blonde didn’t even bother worrying about how she’d survive on her own until rescue could arrive. Right then, _nothing_ mattered to her more than making sure Crowley was happy.

And it was _that_ realization that almost sent Zira into a panicked spiral.

How on God’s Green Earth had Crowley’s continued happiness become such a vital part to Zira that she considered survival _secondary?!_ What about Gabriel and Anathema who were doubtless praying for her safe return? Didn’t _their_ happiness matter too?!

Zira shouldn’t be feeling guilty about using Crowley _at all!_ She should seize onto the deception with both hands; _anything_ to get back to the people who _really_ loved her!

_But Crowley **does** love me!_

And there it was. The final thought that caused Zira to put up her emotional and mental walls.

_Nope. Can’t be. Crowley isn’t human, therefore she can’t love. It’s just a desire to mate with me, nothing more. Therefore, I shouldn’t feel bad for taking advantage of her. She’s doing the same thing after all by trying to ply me with terrible sushi and provocative behavior._

Resolution re-doubled, Zira spread her arms along the bank of the rock pool and let her eyes slip shut in relaxation. She was stubbornly refusing to acknowledge Imaginary-Anathema’s voice calling her a hypocrite for engaging in the same “provocative behavior”.

Eventually, though, the voice faded away to nothing and Zira allowed her mind to go blissfully blank for the first time since arriving on this Hellish island.

The sun filtering through the trees warmed her skin so pleasantly that she started to imagine what she’d look like with a tan. Gabriel would probably lose his mind at the sight of it and Anathema would no doubt have quite a few choice remarks about how silly it made her look.

A tiny serpentine tongue flickered at her nose and Zira scrunched her face up in annoyance.

She batted it away. “Oh for- leave me _alone,_ Crowley. I’m trying to unwind.”

The tongue continued it’s prodding and Zira's patience wavered.

“Crowley would you _please_ just-” she began as she opened her eyes.

It wasn’t Crowley.

A viper, just over a metre long and almost as thick as Zira's forearm was seated on the bank beside her with its head stretched out to stare directly at her. Dusty white scales interspersed with gold ones covered the length of its entire body.

It wiggled forward to tap the space between Zira's eyes with its snout and the human’s mouth ran dry. Her breathing was shallow, frantic as the snake wiggled closer to wrap around her neck. Zira wasn’t sure if it was a constrictor or venomous, but neither options were good.

“C-Cro…” she gasped when the animal’s hold tightened a fraction.

Her hands twitched with the need to grab the snake and fling it away before it choked her, but that could just as easily end with her being fatally envenomed.

Zira's _best_ chance for survival would be to simply keep still and hope the terrifying thing lost interest. When it settled its broad, flat head on Zira's shoulder with no intention to move on, her willpower crumbled.

_“CROWLEY!!”_ she sobbed.

Crowley must have been on her way back because Zira had barely taken three more frantic breaths after calling for help before the naga was bursting through the undergrowth.

“Angel! What is wrong? Are you hurt?”

_“Pleasepleaseplease_ get it off! Get it off!”

Crowley slithered around behind Zira and gingerly lifted the viper off her shoulders. The thing immediately released its hold to curl around the bigger snake’s arm. Crowley lifted it to her face.

_“Bad Blanche,”_ she scolded. “Not nice to scare my angel.”

The snake - Blanche - somehow managed to look contrite. Her tongue flitted against Crowley’s cheek who gave a put-upon sigh. “Apologize to _angel_ not me.”

Zira watched the entire exchange in stunned amazement. Crowley was _talking_ to Blanche and, wonder of wonders, the snake was _understanding_ and _responding._ Two pairs of serpentine eyes fell on her.

“Blanche says ‘sorry’,” Crowley explained. “Was supposed to watch over you while I was gone, but decided to play mean trick instead.”

Zira was mollified by her friend’s statement that Blanche never planned on harming her, but she was still somewhat twitchy from the spike of fear-laced adrenaline. 

“Is… is she your pet?” she asked, scooting a little closer to get a better look at her.

Blanche hissed in displeasure and Crowley shook her head.

“No. Blanche is…” She snapped his fingers, trying to find the right word. “...like a sister!”

The golden snake nuzzled her snout on her “sister's” face. Crowley rolled her eyes and pushed away the snakey hug with two fingers.

“Do not embarrass me in front of my angel,”

Blanche headbutted her instead.

“Yes, yes, I love Blanche too,”

Crowley pressed a quick sororal peck to the tip of her snout and Zira felt her world drop out beneath her.

Crowley was… was _cooing_ over her sister. She _loved_ her and had told her so without any trepidation or hesitation, like it was something she did often.

_Just like Gabriel and I._

Zira swallowed a whine. She had been laboring under the now _obviously_ false impression that Crowley was incapable of love due to the fact that she wasn’t human. Watching her interact with Blanche, Zira's guilt at using her returned ten-fold.

Crowley might not have had human legs, eyes, or strength, but her _soul_ \- her _love_ \- was nothing but that. In a tiny, private corner of her heart that she wasn’t even aware of having, Zira wondered what it would feel like to have the full force of that love directed towards her.

***~*~*~*~***

The sun had vanished beyond the Western horizon hours later, casting the jungle in a delicate orange hue. A yard or so away from the rockpool, Crowley, Zira, and Blanche were sprawled out across a large, flat rock with Zira's clothes dangling from a branch nearby to dry overnight. Crowley was on her stomach, arms cushioning her head as he dozed atop the warm stone. Zira lay on her back beside her, close enough to brush shoulders, with Blanche curling most of her body atop the human’s chest and enjoying the steady rise and fall of it..

Zira was idly stroking Blanche's scales with her left hand, while rubbing slow circles on Crowley’s back with her other. Her mind had gone syrupy with lazy pleasure and she was considering taking a nap herself.

Next to her, Crowley stretched her gangly arms with a satisfying crackle of joints. Her tail extended and accidentally knocked away the now-empty coconuts she had gathered for Zira earlier. The hollow thunk of them rattling together caused Blanche to lift her head from her perch.

“Everything alright, dear?” the human asked.

“Yeah. Should get back to the nest. It is not always safe out here at night,”

Beyond Blanche (and that _horrid_ seagull), Zira hadn’t really seen any other wild animals on the island. She had no doubt that they were _there_ of course, but it seemed that they avoided Crowley.

“Why? I’m sure you’re mightier than anything else on this island. What could possibly threaten _you?”_ Zira asked with an upticked eyebrow.

Crowley preened at the praise and pushed herself up to flex her biceps.

“Yes. I _am_ strong. _Nothing_ can defeat me. But _you_ are not. I do not want you hurt,”

Zira smiled and sat up. Blanche rolled off her chest with an undignified splat. The blonde paid no mind to the viper's grumbling hiss and scooted closer to Crowley to rest a hand on the naga’s arm.

“My brave, _beautiful_ protector,” she demurred, eyes flitting down to a pair of slightly parted lips.

If Blanche could, she would have rolled her eyes.

“S-should… um… _nest…”_

“Hm. Quite right. I don’t need to be carried anymore, but would you allow me to hold onto your arm the rest of the walk back so I don’t fall?”

Crowley slid off the rock and held Ezra by the waist to help her down. The human eagerly took the offered arm and leaned fully against her red-headed friend.

“Goodnight, Blanche. Get back to den safe,” Crowley said, nodding towards the viper still atop the rock.

Blanche nodded _(how???)_ and slipped away into the undergrowth with nothing but a faint rasp of scales on grass.

“Your little sister is quite charming,” Zira chuckled as the two of them began a romantic sunset stroll back to their shared nest, though in her case it was more of a slow limp.

“Not ‘little’. _Big_ sister,” Crowley corrected and patted the elbow linked through hers.

_“Older_ sister? But… how?”

Vipers didn’t typically live longer than 15 years (at least by Zira's recollection) and Crowley herself looked older than that. Were she human, Zira would place her in her late twenties to early thirties. There was no possible way for Blanche to be the older of the two, but considering all the other fantastical things Zira had witnessed in the past three days, a wild snake living 35+ years wasn’t too unbelievable.

“How old _is_ Blanche?” she asked.

Crowley threw back her head with a sharp bark of laughter.

“Blanche is _ancient._ Is an old lady,”

“Well then, how old are _you?”_

Crowley flinched at the question and her fingers tightened unconsciously around Zira's elbow. They didn’t stop walking, but Crowley’s entire face had fallen in sadness. “I do not remember. I am old. _Too_ old.”

Zira looked up at her friend and saw the naga’s eyes were glazed over and fixed ahead. She appeared to be very far away in unpleasant memories. For the first time, Zira was starting to wonder what Crowley’s life before had been like. Those questions could wait, however. Her serpent needed her.

Zira placed her hand on Crowley’s face and turned it towards her.

“I’m sorry if I upset you, my dear. Please come back to me. Don’t go where I can’t follow,”

She softly kissed the corner of Crowley’s mouth. There was no teasing banter, no trading or bargaining as a reward for a favor, just a gentle show of tender affection to bring her dear friend back from wherever Zira's careless words had sent her.

Crowley blinked slowly, the fog clearing from her eyes.

“Sorry, angel,” she breathed.

“Don’t you _dare_ apologize, missy! I should have been more sensitive. I won’t pretend to understand why asking your age made you upset, but I promise not to do it again and you don’t have to talk about it unless you want to,”

Crowley had gone from lost to stunned so fast that it almost gave her whiplash. Her eyes were wide in shocked gratitude.

“Angel…”

Zira let go of her face and pressed herself closer against Crowley’s side. “Come along, my dear. You said we need to get back before nightfall and I intend to hold you to it. Last thing I need is to trip into a hole because it was too dark to see by.”

The rest of their walk continued in pleasant conversation. Zira would ask Crowley things about Blanche and the naga took every chance she got to tell some silly story or other of how her sister failed to catch a seagull while hunting or got tangled in vines or once bit her so hard after an argument that her entire hand turned purple for a week.

Zira listened to them all with a happy smile, interrupting every so often with a laugh or remark. 

_"How could I have ever doubted that you possessed the ability to love?"_ she thought to herself.

***~*~*~*~***

The first of the stars were blinking into existence under the milky twilight by the time they made it back to the cave. Zira's leg started twinging a bit, so Crowley had carried her the rest of the way through the tunnels into the nook that housed their nest.

Crowley lowered her down to the cushions and passed a blanket to her. “I have a surprise for you, angel. You will get it tomorrow.”

“Oh? How intriguing. Why can’t I have it tonight?” Zira laughed, patting the pillows beside her.

“Because I said so,” Crowley laid down on her half of the pile, turned onto her side to look at the human.

Zira huffed and rolled her eyes, but not at the thought of not getting her “surprise” early. “Dear, I’m not wearing anything and it’s chilly in this cave.” She lifted the blankets. “Please come here so I don’t freeze.”

Crowley licked her lips and nodded once. Without getting up again, she did an awkward sideways wiggle over to Zira who was almost choking on silent laughter.

The blonde threw the blanket over both of their bodies and rested her forehead against Crowley’s collarbone with a sarcastic snort. _“So graceful,_ my dear. It’s a wonder you’re not a dancer with those _sensuous_ moves.”

The naga responded with a smirk, “You think I am ‘sensuous’, eh?”, and a roll of her hips against the human pressed to her.

Zira gasped with a sudden _jolt_ of arousal that tore through her from the feel of Crowley's tail brushing between her legs. She squeezed her eyes shut at the sensation and burrowed her face into Crowley’s clavicle with a muffled whimper.

“Angel, are you okay?”

“T-tickety boo, d-dear, just…”

Something in Zira's voice must have given her away because Crowley suddenly stilled. Then, she gave another undulation of her hips, this time slow and careful. Zira bit down on his bottom lip and keened loud enough to be heard, nails digging into the muscles of Crowley’s arms. She felt Crowley’s breath ghosting over the shell of her ear. It sent heat shivering down her spine to settle _much_ further south.

“Does… do you want me _too,_ angel?” Crowley's hands were looped under Zira's arms, clutching her back with a trembling intensity. She sounded like she was barely restraining herself from rutting against the softness of her chosen mate.

“I… I don’t…” Zira panted. “I’m not…”

_I do. And I don’t know how I should feel about that._

The hands on her back pulled away and the blonde was bereft of their touch. Crowley was still draped along her front, but those same hands were now cupping her face instead. A flush of arousal was high on the naga’s cheeks, but her expression was tender. She pressed a gentle kiss to Zira's forehead like a benediction.

“It is okay, angel,” she said. “I will not force you. Do not feel bad or embarrassed.”

The flames beneath Zira's skin were cooling under the torrent that was Crowley’s compassion. In truth she _was_ embarrassed. Not because of her body’s natural reaction, but because of how _eager_ she’d been in the moment.

_For Heaven's sake, I’ve known her for less than_ **_three days!_ **

She hadn’t even had hookups in _uni_ that went that fast! To her utter humiliation, Zira had been perfectly willing to throw herself at her friend right then and there. Crowley, however, had interpreted her confliction as fear and hesitation, then reassured Zira that nothing would happen without her consent, even if it wasn’t in those exact words.

To Crowley, anything less than an enthusiastic _yes_ was a hard _no._

Zira sniffled and embraced her _wonderful_ serpent. Crowley’s gesture was unneeded, but welcomed nonetheless. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. So, _so much.”_

Crowley hugged her back.

“Anything for you, angel,” she whispered into downy curls.

The two of them stayed entwined through the rest of the night, even as they slipped down into sleep.


	5. The Storm Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zira's rescue is hampered by an oncoming storm and Crowley introduces us to the rest of her family.

It was 10:52 a.m. on the fourth day of Zira's disappearance when Gabriel’s phone rang.

He was deep asleep on the couch and didn’t hear it go off, but Anathema, who true to her word hadn’t left Gabriel alone, did.

When it wasn’t immediately answered after the third ring, she threw herself out of the kitchen and almost dropped it before answering.

“Yes! Hello?” she practically shouted and shook Gabriel, who awoke with a jolt.

“This is Captain Carla Medina of the Marine Corps Search and Rescue Division. May I speak to Gabriel Fell?”

Anathema pressed the speakerphone button just as Gabriel said, “Yes. This is he.”

“Mr. Fell I’m contacting you to inform you that there’s been a recent development in the search for your sister, Zira,”

Anathema gasped sharply and Gabriel nearly swallowed his tongue in his haste to answer.

“What is it? Have you found her? Is she safe?” he managed to say.

“Negative, Mr. Fell. The search is still ongoing, though something has come up that I feel you should be made aware of,”

Anathema sobbed and Gabriel’s thoughts ran wild. What was going on? Captain Medina had said that Ezra hadn't been recovered, dear _or_ alive, so why was she calling? Had they found an empty life vest set adrift and were trying to inform them that Zira's chances of survival had dropped drastically? Did a fisherman pull up one of his nets and discover a scrap of Zira's bloodstained clothing inside, but no body? 

“W-what do I need to know?” Gabriel stammered weakly.

“Mr. Fell I’m not sure if you follow the Weather Reports, but a tropical storm has been developing southeast of the search area and is expected to develop into a Category 2 hurricane within the next two days. It’s angle of trajectory will have it passing directly over the search area by the time it fully develops,” Captain Medina went on to explain.

“What are you trying to tell me?!” Gabriel snapped.

“I’m telling you that our S&R officers will keep up the search for as long as we can before the hurricane hits. Right before it does, however, my men will have to pull out for their own safety. I’m sorry, Mr. Fell, but your sister's odds of survival in that storm will be next to nothing. We will be calling off the search once it passes,”

Gabriel’s blood ran cold. Behind him, he could hear Anathema trying to stifle another sob.

“Y-you… you can’t…” the younger Fell brother whimpered. “... you can’t keep looking for just one more day after it’s over?”

“No, Mr. Fell. I’m sorry,”

Gabriel opened his mouth to protest further - _beg_ if he had to - when Anathema sprang forward to snatch the phone out of his hand.

“Wait a moment, Captain Medina. Did your boys happen to do a sweep of any islands or archipelagos?” she asked.

Captain Medina went silent on the other end of the line and the rustling of paper could be heard. She came back on and replied, “No. There weren’t any islands in the search area.”

Hope flared brightly in Anathema’s heart, chasing away some of the shadows that had grown large. 

“Captain, far be it from me to tell you how to do your job, but on the route we took there was an island. I remember looking over the railing and seeing it in the distance. I know it wasn’t in the search zone, but do you think Zira could have drifted _out_ of that zone and onto the island?”

Gabriel’s head jerked up from where he had been sitting on the couch with his face in his hands. The tentatively hopeful light in his eyes matched the one in Anathema’s chest. Captain Medina was quiet for a second, then made a soft noise of consideration.

“Would either of you happen to have the coordinates for the island, or the contact information for the Captain of the yacht you rented? The sooner you get either of those to me, the sooner my men can begin searching,”

Anathema jumped in place with a silent cry of triumph and Gabriel slumped over the back of the sofa.

“I’ll get those coordinates right away, Captain!” she said excitedly.

“Thank you very much, ma’am. I’ll be sure to contact either of you should we find Ezra in the meantime,”

With that, Medina ended the call. Gabriel was up and off the sofa to practically crush Anathema in a powerful embrace before she could even put the phone down.

“That was _genius,_ Witch! Thank you! _Thank you!_ Your quick thinking might have just saved Zira's life!” he rambled on, lifting the slender woman clean off the ground. “Thank God you’re the smart one out of the three of us.”

_“And_ the pretty one, _and_ the funny one, _and_ the fun one, _and-_ ”

“Alright, alright, quit hamming it up before I drop you,”

Gabriel, of course, _didn’t_ drop her, but simply set her back down on the floor. Anathema couldn’t help but notice that that small nugget of hope already had her friend looking healthier than he’d ever been these past few days. 

She immediately made a break for the kitchen to grab her purse and pull out her phone.

“I’m gonna call Captain Newton and inform him of the Coast Guard’s plan. I’m sure he’ll help us!” she said.

While she did so, Gabriel sent up a desperate prayer to whatever deity would listen.

_**Please** let this work. Let her be there. Let her be safe._

***~*~*~*~***

Zira had awoken an hour earlier. She was still tangled in Crowley’s arms, only now legs and a tail had entered the equation. The tip of a black tail was looped around the ankle of the leg that Zira hadn’t flung over her waist. The blonde’s left arm was propping up her head, while the right hung at her side, over Crowley’s arm which was encircling Zira's torso. The covers had been kicked off some time during the night, leaving the two of them bare to the world.

And Zira didn’t mind.

Across from her, Crowley’s face was still slack with sleep. Her fiery hair was fanned around her head like a very fizzy, messy halo. Her cheek was squished against a pillow and her lips were parted just enough for her forked tongue to flit out every few breaths with a tiny “sss” sound.

_You have no right to look that adorable._

Zira reached over with her free hand to touch a lock of hair. She let it flow like liquid rubies between her fingers.

“You are utterly magnificent, my dear,” she breathed into the space between them. “I’ve never met a person as captivating as you; scales, tail and all. You have such _kindness…”_

“‘M not kind…” came the sleepy response.

Zira went to pull her hand away, thought better of it, then continued petting Crowley’s hair.

“When did you wake up, my dear?”

“Jusssst now. Felt you touch my hair,”

Zira smiled at the lisp. It added to Crowley’s already overflowing charm.

“So what’s the agenda for today? You mentioned something about a surprise for me last night?” the blonde asked and she felt the hands on her back begin rubbing small circles.

“Yes. It is in the salvage room. Yesterday, when you sent me for coconuts, I came back here to find your ‘radio’ as a present. I did not find it, but I _did_ find something else,” Crowley explained.

Zira was a little disappointed that she was no closer to finding a radio than she was yesterday, but the idea of presents helped take her mind off it. 

“How big of a surprise are we talking about? Should I applaud? Wear a blindfold?”

_Oh_ if the thought of being blindfolded didn’t suddenly send tingles of excitement all the way down to the tips of Zira's toes. Judging by the naga’s strangled “ngk”, Crowley felt the same.

“N-no. No blindfolds,” She cleared her throat, rose out of “bed” and held out a hand for Zira to take. “Come with me.”

Zira accepted the offered hand and allowed herself to be gently tugged deeper into the cave, back towards the salvage room. Upon arrival, Crowley led her to a crate whose label had long since faded away, leaving behind no clue as to the contents within. The lid had already been ripped away but carefully replaced to contain the _mystery._

“My surprise wouldn’t happen to be in the _box,_ would it?” Zira snarked.

Crowley just pointed at it without saying a word and the human raised her hands in a gesture of supplication. Without further ado, she lifted the lid of the crate.

And shrieked in delight.

_Clothes!_

Brand new, honest-to-goodness _clothes!_

Zira leaned over the lid of the crate to begin pawing at the various garments. A few of them were a bit too small for her, but the vast majority looked like they either fit perfectly or if they _were_ too big, at least would be comfortable. 

She held up a blouse in a shade of blue-grey that she felt would compliment her wintery hair _perfectly._

Crowley scratched her head nervously. “Clothes are not for me. But I thought _you_ might like them. Do you, angel?” she asked.

Zira dropped the blouse back into the crate and leapt into Crowley’s arms.

“I _love_ them! Thank you, my dear! Thank you _ever_ so much!”

Crowley hugged her back. Zira waited eagerly for the teasing to begin; for Crowley to give her a saucy wiggle of her eyebrows and request another “reward kiss”.

It never came.

Crowley appeared to be more than content with a simple hug of gratitude.

_Well that just won’t do at all!_

Zira wound a strand of the naga’s hair around her finger.

“Aren’t you going to ask for your ‘reward’, dear?”

Crowley, to Zira's surprise, just shook her head.

“No. I am alright. Thank you though,” she said and set the blonde back down.

Something cracked in Zira's chest. It left a bitter taste in her mouth that was quite different from simple disappointment. Was the unthinkable happening? Did Crowley no longer find her desirable? Had she gotten fed up with Zira's slowness and now no longer wanted to be her mate?

That shouldn’t have hurt Zira as much as it did because it was exactly what she had wanted, wasn’t it? Only…

She couldn’t keep her bottom lip from trembling. She stepped away from the circle of Crowley’s arms to return to rummage through her new clothes in the hopes of taking her mind off the ugly feeling of rejection.

_Serves you right, Zira. This was_ **_exactly_ ** _how you were going to make **her**_ _feel. You’re just lucky she caught on to how loathsome you truly are before things went any further. Now you can focus entirely on getting home with no silly distractions like beautiful, stupidly sweet snake-women._

A calloused but gentle hand alighted on her shoulder.

“Angel? Are you okay? You seem sad,”

“I’m fine, Crowley. Just taking inventory,” She blinked hereyes rapidly to try and clear the gathering tears away before the other could see. “Everything in here is quite lovely and I can’t decide what to wear first.”

“Do not lie to me,”

Crowley’s voice was low, firm. She pulled lightly on Ezra’s shoulders to turn her around. “Angel, please, tell me what is wrong.” The smaller woman lifted watery eyes and Crowley reared back at the sight of them. _“Angel…”_

“Do you not want me anymore, Crowley?” Zira blurted.

Crowley’s face instantly morphed from shocked to confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“I offered you a reward and you didn’t take it,” Zira said, trying to sound non-committal. “It’s perfectly fine if you no longer wish to continue courting me but I would greatly appreciate some honesty on this matter.”

_Honesty? Honesty?! You think you deserve it after you yourself spent the better part of a week deceiving her and continue to do so? You’re despicable!_

Crowley’s features hardened and Zira was certain that she was about to be kicked out of their nest (could it even be called _theirs_ anymore?). 

Therefore, she was exceedingly surprised when she was backed up against the crate hard enough to send it almost teetering over. Zira had half a second to regret opening her big mouth and then Crowley smashed their lips together.

Whereas their first few shared kisses had been fumbling, _this_ one was demonstrative. Crowley was growling slightly with every movement of her lips. Zira's knees went wobbly and she slumped, only to be gripped around the arms and hauled back upright. Crowley ended the kiss with a snarl of, “Never _not_ want you, angel.”

It took Zira's lust-addled brain a few seconds to come back online but when it did, she was more confused than ever. “Then why did you reject me when I offered you a kiss as thanks for the clothes?”

It was amazing how fast Crowley could go from feral to ashamed. Her pupils, previously blown wide with desire, now returned to their regular knife-slash shape.

“After last night, I started feeling bad,” she mumbled. “I kept asking you for ‘reward kisses’ instead of allowing them to be given freely. I am sorry. I do not want you to kiss me because you feel like you have to.”

Once again Zira was astonished by Crowley’s capacity for compassion. In an answer that was without words, she pulled the naga down for a kiss freely given, then pulled away after a few seconds.

“Crowley, dear, look at me,” she demanded. _“Everything_ I’ve given you was done of my own volition. If you want a kiss, ask me. If I don’t want to give one, I won’t. That’s how two-way relationships work and how boundaries are established. You have _never_ taken advantage of me, and I doubt you ever will.”

Crowley’s eyebrows arched upwards but the rest of her face was the picture of slack-jawed surprise. 

“Then…” she ducked her head. “...can I have another one?”

Zira smiled, relieved.

“Of course, my dear, but just the one. I really _do_ need to sort through your lovely gift,” she replied.

Crowley was giddy as Zira stood on tip-toe to kiss her; a subtle gesture that showed she was willing to go to the naga instead of the other way around. When their lips finally met, Zira made up her mind to show her serpent something _new._

Zira persuaded the redhead’s mouth open and slipped her tongue inside. 

The reaction was instantaneous.

Crowley’s eyes snapped open, her hands stuttered where they gripped Zira's hips, and she let out a reverberating groan that the human could feel in her own teeth. Seeing as she hadn’t been violently shoved away in revulsion, Zira took the other’s reaction as carte blanche to continue.

Crowley’s tongue was… different.

Not “bad” different, but “different” different.

It was narrower than a human tongue, but not overly so, with a forked division at the tip. The texture was roughly the same, if a bit smoother. Zira was more than a little relieved to find that Crowley didn’t taste like raw meat or blood or any other ghastly thing. In fact, she didn’t taste quite like anything.

_No, that’s not true._

_She tastes **human.**_

The two of them resurfaced for air, a thin strand of saliva still joining them together. Zira's chest was heaving in great, desperate pants and Crowley’s blinks were sluggish and out of sync with each other.

Zira started to giggle breathlessly. “See? Freely given.”

“...wahoo…” Crowley croaked.

The blonde snorted and took her friend’s hand. 

“Come on then, dear. Help me figure out which of your gifts look best on me,”

***~*~*~*~***

Anathema found Captain Newton already sitting at a table near the window of the cafe that served as their chosen rendezvous point. No longer wearing his crisp, white uniform from the voyage, he looked less like a “dashing yacht captain” and more of a “starving college student”. He was fiddling with the buttons of his dark overcoat and hadn’t noticed Anathema’s approach.

“Thank you _so much_ for meeting here on such short notice, Captain,” she said with a frantic, grateful air as she dropped into the chair across from him.

Newton jumped when she did so. “T-think nothing of it, Miss Device. It’s the least I can do after what happened to your friend. I have the coordinates to the island right here.” He slid a piece of paper across the table to Anathema who snatched it up as if it contained the secrets to the entire universe. “I also took the liberty of doing a little research myself. The island, as it turns out, isn’t listed on commercial sailing routes. I’m not certain why, though.”

Anathema folded the paper and slipped it into her purse. “Maybe it’s uninhabited. After all, why bother keeping track of a place if there’s no people to contact or trade with?” She stood up from the table. “I’m sorry to run off like this, but I need to get these coordinates to the Search and Rescue team. Thank you again for your help, Captain Newton.”

“Oh my last name isn’t Newton!” the man blurted.

Anathema paused, curious. “It’s not? Then what is it?”

“W-well, Newton is my _first name,_ but I mostly just go by Newt. My _last name_ is Pulsifier, but the Pulsifier name has a bit of a reputation amongst the maritime community for causing shipwrecks and storms with our bad luck. It’s just a silly superstition, but going by ‘Newton’ instead of ‘Pulsifer’ keeps the customers from running the opposite direction,” he chuckled nervously.

Anathema smiled. “Newt, then. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” she said with a wink that caused the “cursed” captain to blush furiously.

“T-thank you, Miss Device,”

“Just Anathema, please,”

“Anathema,”

She liked how her name sounded when he said it and the two of them shared a smile.

***~*~*~*~***

**2 Days Later**

Zira rolled over in the nest and sleepily groped around the blankets for a warm, snakey body. When none was forthcoming, she opened her eyes.

She was alone, and the spot beside her had grown cold. She sat up.

“Crowley?”

Her friend wasn’t anywhere in their nest, so Zira went to search for her. The human had gotten better at navigating the winding passages of their shared cave, but after a thorough sweep, the naga was nowhere to be found.

Zira wasn’t _worried,_ per se, but it did seem a little odd that Crowley wasn’t there when she woke up. Every day upon waking since coming to the island, the redhead had either been right beside her or wrapped around her. Was she upset? Had Zira done something to anger her?

She began mentally checking off the other places she could be. If Crowley had decided to venture deeper into the jungle there was no way Zira would be able to follow her. If she’d gone to the beach or the rockpool, though…

She decided the beach would be the first place she looked, and set off for it promptly. 

Upon exiting the cave, Zira was struck by how _still_ everything was. She had gotten so accustomed to the chirps of tropical birds and the far cry of unknown animals, that hearing the island be as silent as a tomb sent a shiver up her spine. Even the _air_ smelled different. Something heavy hung in the atmosphere, cloying and _wet_ that carried with it the promise of coming suffering. As Zira cautiously picked her way through the jungle to the beach, the canopy above her rustled ominously with the whistling of a wind that was too weighty to be a simple sea breeze. Despite it being morning, no sun shone through the trees, so blocked out by thick, roiling clouds that it darkened the area.

“Crowley?” she called out into the dimness beyond.

Her voice was swallowed up by the smothering shadows. She picked up her pace, eager to find her friend as soon as possible so they could hide from whatever it was that was coming. When the treeline started thinning out into sand, Zira broke into a run.

Standing on the shore, back to the jungle, was Crowley.

The naga was staring forward into the open ocean as the wind whipped her hair into a frenzy.

“Crowley!” Zira cried.

Crowley swivelled around. 

“Angel? What is wrong?” she asked and held out her arms.

Zira went gladly into them and squeezed her tight. “I was so _worried,_ Crowley. I woke up and you weren’t in our nest so I came to look for you. What are you doing out here and what’s going on? Why is everything so… strange?”

“A storm is coming,” Crowley said, and pointed out to the horizon. “A _big_ one.”

Zira followed the line of her outstretched hand to where she was gesturing. Out across the sea, so wide that it was _all_ she could see, massive storm clouds as black as shadows at night gathered. The sea beneath it churned and frothed with sheets of driving rain. 

“T-that’s… is it coming this way?!” Zira squeaked and clung to Crowley tighter.

Her friend nodded.

“How often do these storms happen?!”

Crowley shrugged. It was obvious that she was trying to appear nonchalant, but her eyes had a steely, determined glint to them.

“One or twice every few years,”

“And I just _had_ to fall overboard right when one was coming, huh?” Zira moaned, letting her forehead thump against Crowley’s shoulder. The naga just chortled good-naturedly and patted her back. “So what do we do then, Crowley? How do we stay safe?”

“We gather food and water to stock in the nest, then wait it out inside the cave,” Crowley replied. “I already took care of that earlier when I noticed the weather change. These storms only last three or four days with a break in the middle before it starts again.”

Zira gasped in sudden realization. _“Blanche!_ Oh no! She’ll be all alone out here in the worst of it! Crowley, we _have_ to find her and get her back to the nest so she’ll be safe!” she wailed.

“Angel, _angel,_ calm down! Blanche knows this! She and my other sisters always come to my nest for storms. They will be _fine,”_

Zira felt subsumed with relief. “Oh thank _goodness._ Sorry to have panicked there,” Then she paused. “Wait. You have other sisters?”

“Yep!” Crowley declared proudly and began counting off on her fingers. “There is Blanche, Sophia, Dorothy, and Rose. You have met Blanche, but I told the others early today that you will be there too.”

“The ‘Golden Girls’? Really?” Zira asked.

“Blanche is the only one that is gold,” Crowley looked deeply confused.

Zira opened her mouth to explain that “The Golden Girls” was a television show, but closed it again. The other woman didn’t even know what a _radio_ was; explaining something as complex and in-depth as a television would probably give her a stroke.

“My mistake, dear. I thought they were all yellow like Blanche,”

Crowley put her hands on Zira's shoulders and began trying to push her back in the direction of the cave. 

“Come on. The storm will be here soon. We need to hide,”

***~*~*~*~***

Gabriel hadn’t left the bathroom for over an hour.

When he received the call from Captain Medina that the search had been temporarily halted in the wake of the oncoming hurricane and that Ezra had yet to be found, he’d barricaded himself in his bathroom.

From where Anathema sat on the floor outside it, she knew that he was just trying not to break down in front of her. “At least they said they were going to search the island once the storm passes.”

Gabriel didn’t reply. He hadn’t _been_ replying, but she could hear him trying to hide his weeping on the other side of the door. It crushed her already broken heart further to see him trying to keep up a tough facade. She’d repeatedly reminded him that it was _okay_ to cry, that she too cried herself hoarse over Zira every day, but Gabriel remained stubborn.

_Ugh, they really are family in that regard…_

Anathema brought her phone to her face. Outside, the weather in London was sunny. On her Weather App, she tracked the path of the hurricane, hoping against reason that it might make a last-minute miraculous course-correction to avoid the island she suspected Zira had washed up on.

It never did.

***~*~*~*~***

“Angel, these are my sisters,”

Inside the cave, Crowley held out her arms upon which were dangling four snakes; two to each arm.

“You have met Blanche,”

The white-gold viper in question hissed in greeting then dropped to the floor. 

“This is Sophia,”

Zira flinched at the tell-tale rattle dangling from Sophia’s tail. She shook like a friendly wave, filling the cave with the sounds of maracas. She slid down her sister's body to join Blanche, giving her an affectionate headbutt to her cheek on the way down.

“This is Dorothy,”

The snake she held up was longer and thinner than the previous two, with a head wider than her entire body and bulbous eyes. Zira cooed at her and she hid her face in Crowley’s hair. “Dorothy is very shy,” the naga said by way of explanation.

She allowed her to remain hidden in her thick hair, looped around it like a living scrunchie, as she presented the fourth and final sister.

“Angel, meet Rose,”

Rose was _massive,_ at least two metres long with a thick body covered in brown and black scales. She simply stared at Zira with flat, grey eyes and the human found herself shifting under her gaze. Rose was as tall as Crowley, so she didn’t really need to fall to get down from her arms; just lowered herself down by her tail. She never took her eyes off Zira, even as she slithered off to find herself a cozy spot in the cave to wait out the storm.

“I am sorry about Rose. She is… protective of me,” Crowley apologized.

“It’s quite alright, dear. I’m sure she’ll come around to me eventually,” Zira said, patting her friend’s arm. 

She still felt somewhat unnerved by Rose’s piercing stare, but she knew that Rose wouldn’t do anything to hurt her and risk alienating her sister.

There came a sudden crack of something heavy falling from the entrance to the cave and Dorothy and Blanche hissed with fright. Sophia rattled her tail.

“It’s alright, my dears, it’s alright,” Zira tried to soothe them. “Crowley and I will protect you; _all_ of you. And you’ll protect us.”

Blanche and Sophia nodded. Even timid little Dorothy managed to peek out from behind the shelter of her sister's hair and bob her head.

Zira didn’t ask why a trio of wild animals were able to understand her and respond back. She'd already been sharing a nest with a creature from legend for the better part of a week, so hyper-intelligent snakes were just the next logical step in the bizarre chain of events that had become her life.

She felt Blanche trying to crawl up her legs, but the texture of her black leggings made it somewhat difficult for the snake. She bent over to scoop her up and drape her over her shoulders (which had become Blanche's preferred spot to nap in recent days). Crowley did the same with Sophia.

“Come along, my darlings. Let’s go to the salvage room and see if we can’t find some not-too-badly-waterlogged books or pack of cards to pass the time while we wait out the weather,” Zira said. “I’ll even teach you to play Blackjack if we find the right deck.”

A chorus of hisses and rattles went up that, to Zira, sounded like cheers. She glanced over at Crowley who was staring at her with such open, unrivalled adoration that Zira felt her face heat up in a pleasant blush.


	6. Runaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rose acts on her distrustful impulses, putting herself and Zira in grave danger.

“Alright Blanche, now you just take the- no, not like that. No, just… _spit that out!”_

Blanche tried to squirm away with her pilfered treasure, but Zira caught her by the tail. Between them lay a deck of cards with four individual ones face up in front of Zira and now _three_ individual ones face up where Blanche had just been.

The fourth one (Black, Three of Clubs) was clutched between her fangs and the golden viper was trying her best to swallow it before Zira could snatch it back. From a few feet away, perched atop a comfortable rock, Sophia rattled her tail encouragingly.

True to her word, Zira had found a pack of playing cards in a box labelled, “Igloo Toys” (as well as an adorable stuffed polar bear that Dorothy was currently wrapped around) and was now trying to teach the snakes Blackjack. She'd first attempted Poker, with the “hands” propped up by rocks, but the snakes’ poker faces were _too good_ and Zira ended up losing every time.

She dragged Blanche back towards herself and pinched the corner of the card that was still visible outside of her jaws.

“Give that back, you little terror! You could choke! Don’t make me get Crowley!” she threatened.

Crowley was, surprisingly, the best poker player of them all. She always knew _just_ when to fold or hold as the situation called for it, and her tell was practically invisible. Everyone but Rose had been having a jolly time, when the large constrictor wound her way up Crowley’s shoulder to whisper something in her ear.

The naga’s face had shuttered in concern for a moment, before she put her cards down.

“Rose wants to talk to me alone. I’ll be back in a minute,”

The two of them had slithered off and Zira started showing Blanche how to play Blackjack, which was how she found herself trying to wrestle a playing card out of a viper’s mouth twenty minutes later.

With a cry of triumph, the blonde wrenched the card away and held it aloft like a sword. 

A torn, crumpled, slightly moist sword.

Blanche huffed and went to join Sophia on the rock.

“Don’t you take that tone with me, ma’am. Last thing I need is Crowley coming back from her chat and finding out I let you eat something you shouldn’t,” Zira explained, affronted.

Speak of the devil…

Crowley came stomping (insomuch as a woman with the lower half of a snake reasonably _could_ stomp) into the room with a scowl. 

Rose was nowhere to be seen.

“Crowley, dear, are you alright?” Zira asked.

Crowley made a sound that was somewhere between a hiss and a growl. _“I’m_ fine, but Rose is being a… a…” she turned to shout out into the tunnel behind her. _“...big jerk!”_

A furious hiss was the reply.

Crowley threw her arms up in the air and sat down on her coils, leaving enough room on them for Zira to come sit beside her.

“What did she say that’s got you so worked up?” Zira asked.

“It’s nothing, angel,” the naga growled, but she sounded nervous.

Zira turned Crowley’s face towards her.

“Dear, you told me not to lie to you, so now I’m asking the same. _Please_ talk to me,” she whispered.

Crowley’s face scrunched up in a half-pout-half-pained expression. 

“You won’t like it, angel,” she replied hoarsely.

“Let _me_ be the judge of that,” Zira said softly, petting Crowley’s hair. They shared a tentative smile.

“Rose doesn’t like you,” the naga exclaimed desperately.

Zira's hand stilled its movement. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry, angel, but she thinks you’re going to hurt me. She doesn’t trust you,”

Zira's hands folded together in her lap. She stared off into the middle distance, letting Rose’s accusation sink in.

_Well, she’s not wrong. I **am** going to end up hurting her sister one way or another if I leave. She’s right to not trust me, but…_

The human rubbed her palms across her leggings to wipe off the guilty sweat that had suddenly appeared. “Well, you can assure Rose that I won’t ever…” she trailed off. Saying that she would never hurt Crowley was a lie, plain and simple. She didn’t want to lie to Crowley. “You can assure her that I would _never_ wish to cause you harm.”

Crowley sighed happily and leaned against Zira. “I know you won’t, angel. I told her so. I think she’s just mad that it’s not the five of us anymore. There’s _you_ now.”

Crowley’s words drew a little “oh” of surprise out of the blonde beside her. That _bizarre_ fluttering was back in her chest, mixed with compassion for Rose. Zira didn’t doubt that Crowley might have had the right of things. Rose _was_ probably upset that her beloved sister had found a new person to spend her time with (as temporary as it may be); Zira would feel the same, were their situations reversed.

“Would you like me to talk to her, dear?” Zira asked, patting Crowley’s arm. “Perhaps it would help if I told her that I have _no_ intention of breaking up your family.”

Crowley blew air from between her lips and rolled her eyes.

“I don’t think it’ll work, but be my guest,”

Zira straightened her blouse and rose to stand. “Just you watch, my dear. I’ll have her back in here playing cards with us again in _no time._ Speaking of which, while I’m gone, make sure Blanche doesn’t try to eat any more of the deck.”

“Wait, what?”

Zira, however, was already padding out of the salvage room to go track down the errant python.

“If she tries to eat you, just scream!” Crowley called.

Zira didn’t _truly_ believe that Rose would eat her, but she made sure to keep her guard up just in case.

She found Rose curled up near the entrance to the cave, watching the hurricane outside. The rain was practically sideways. Beyond their shelter, into the grey chaos beyond, Zira could see trees bowing beneath the onslaught of the screaming wind. 

“Crowley tells me that you aren’t very fond of me,” she said, coming up beside her.

Rose hissed weakly; not so much of a threat as simply reminding the human of her opinion. Zira sat down beside her, legs crossed.

“I won’t claim to know how you feel, Rose, but I have a sibling too. Although, I suppose, I guess that does help me understand, at least a little,” Her fingers drummed anxiously at her knees. “Is Crowley older or younger than you? One hiss for older, two hisses for younger.”

No reply was forthcoming, but then a tiny little tongue flickered out.

Twice.

“Ah, younger sister, then. My brother is younger than me as well. His name is Gabriel. He’s a good man, if a bit obnoxious at times. He’s constantly fussing over my ‘outdated’ wardrobe and trying to get me to go to the gym with him all the time because he’s too scared to flirt with the receptionist on his own and needs a ‘wingman’. For the life of me, though, I don’t understand why it’s called ‘wingman’... I don't have wings, nor am I man...”

Rose still wasn’t looking at Zira, but at least she hadn’t tried to crush her in her coils. Zira considered that to be progress. She reached out a tentative hand to pat the snake's head but Rose hissed and she withdrew the offending limb. “My apologies, good madam.”

The two of them sat there in mutual semi-awkward silence, watching the storm and listening to it howl through the mouth of the cave.

“I’d probably be dead if it weren’t for your sister,” Zira said after a time. “She bandaged my leg after I sliced it open on some coral, brought me food, and even offered me shelter in her- our nest. Crowley she’s… she’s _wonderful._ _Far_ more than I deserve, really.”

Rose petulantly nodded her head as if to say, _“yes she is ”._ Zira sighed.

“I can’t promise to _never_ hurt her, because that’s not how the world works. But I can promise you that no physical harm will come to her by my hand. Her happiness means so much to me and I lo- care for her a great deal,”

Rose’s eyes never left the driving sheets of rain before them, but her entire length relaxed a little. It wasn’t trust, but it was a start. Feeling that lingering any longer would be overstaying her welcome, Zira stood back up.

“I hope, one day, you can come to see me as a friend,”

She didn’t look back to see if Rose was watching her (bad luck, looking back) and returned to the salvage room. Halfway there, she met Crowley who had been coming to find her.

“I take it from the lack of screams that you survived?” Crowley said teasingly.

“Indeed. She still hasn’t quite warmed up to me, but I feel we made progress today,”

“That’s good,” the naga purred. 

Her slender arms came up around Ezra to press the human against her. Crowley nuzzled the other’s pale throat, leaving her fruity scent behind. The feel of such a tender mark of possession made Zira's brain feel like it was floating in champagne: bubbly, and a little drunk. The blonde, who had been observing this act of “scenting”, moved to do the same. She wasn’t sure if, being a human, she even _had_ a scent to leave behind, but it seemed to make Crowley happy, and she _had_ just told Rose that she would do whatever she could to make her sister happy. 

The redhead let out a faint groan when Zira dragged her face across the right side of her collar. The human did it again on the left side, this time brushing her mouth against the warm skin, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses.

Zira had no clue what constituted a successful “scenting”, but she evidently did just fine. 

“So, has Blanche given up on thinking that decks of cards are suitable prey while I was gone?” she chuckled.

Crowley stiffened. “Uh oh. I left her alone with them.”

She was shooting back into the salvage room so fast that Zira almost spun (literally) from the force of Crowley yanking her hands away.

From inside the room she could hear the lower-pitched hissing that belonged to Crowley as she scolded Blanche, and the daintier hissing that rose in objection to it.

_Ah, sibling love._ _Speaking of…_

Zira cast one look back towards where Rose had been seated, and felt her heart stop. 

She barely managed to catch sight of the last few inches of Rose's tail before it disappeared into the squall of the hurricane. Zira's mouth went dry and her throat clenched shut, but she managed to force out, “C- _Crowley!_ Rose went outside! She’s- she’s- oh dash it all! She’s _running away!”_

She didn’t stop to check if Crowley had heard her; every second she wasted on hesitation was another second that put Rose at further risk. Heedless of the wind and rain (and subsequent drenching of her new clothes) Zira threw herself out into the heart of the storm.

The force of the gusts nearly sent her tumbling arse-over-kettle, but she caught herself against a cracked tree. She compelled herself back upright, leaning into the wind to remain so.

“Rose! _Rose!!”_ she screamed into the gale.

She didn’t realistically expect to hear Rose's quiet hisses over the sounds of the hurricane, but she had hoped she would at least come back.

_Heaven help me. How am I going to find one snake in all this mess?!_

It was a fool’s errand, but Zira was just the right fool to do it. 

_Alright, she can’t have gotten far. I promised her I would make Crowley happy, and keeping her safe is a fairly good way of doing that._

She pressed forward, praying desperately that she wouldn’t be skewered on an errant tree trunk or something equally as gruesome. Every few steps, while keeping an eye trained on the ground, she’d stop and call out for Rose again. 

“Rose, _please_ come back!” she yelled, hands cupped around her mouth to amplify the sound. “I know you’re upset, but Crowley would be _heartbroken_ if she lost you! What about Blanche and Sophia and Dorothy? They’ll be devastated!”

The chilly water stung her eyes and she dragged her sleeve across her face to clear them, though it didn’t do much good. All around her were the sounds of trees groaning and cracking beneath the onslaught of the wind.

_“Please,_ Rose! Just-”

Zira's foot came down on a slick rock that shifted beneath her weight and sent her sprawling face-first in the mud. She wiped the sticky substance from her face and went to stand back up, but caught sight of a brown snout poking out from beneath a shrub.

“Rose? Is that you?”

The snout retreated for a moment, then slowly crept forward to reveal the beady grey eyes of Crowley’s sister. Zira exhaled her relief. She held out her hands.

“Come now, good madam, we need to get back inside before things get any worse out here,”

Rose resolutely shook her head, but the gust that toppled an old tree _dangerously_ close to her hiding spot changed her mind well enough. She shot forward, straight into Zira's arms, who gathered her up gladly.

_Oof! She’s quite hefty! It’s rude to comment on someone’s weight though, so I shan’t say a thing._

Rose adjusted herself in Zira's hold to be carried more easily.

“Let’s go, then. I do hope the others aren’t too upset by the time we get back…”

The constrictor hid her face under her coils, ashamed, as Zira stumbled back in the direction of the cave.

They had _almost_ made it to safety, when Zira heard something crack behind her. She spun on her heels to confront the threat, when a long, thick branch broke free. 

Zira had all of half a second to fling Rose away from herself, and then the branch was crushing her to the ground by her chest. The impact forced all the air from her lungs, though she valiantly tried to scream at the sudden, bruising pain in her sternum. Her fingers clutched and scrabbled at the branch, but it was impossible to throw off, and the ground was too slick and muddy for Zira to squirm away.

None of her ribs felt broken _(small mercies),_ but the weight of the thing was making it hard for the human pinned beneath it to get a full breath of air. The tiny tongue and worried puff of breath on her face felt like a lifeline.

“R-ro… get- get Crow-” she wheezed.

Rose didn’t need to hear anymore. She slithered for help as fast as her snakey body would carry her.

***~*~*~*~***

Crowley was frantic.

She had heard her mate scream something about Rose and “outside”, but when she went to investigate, neither of them were by the entrance to the cave. She hadn’t seen them go past her, so that left only one other option...

Blanche, Dorothy, and Sophia had wanted to go searching for them with her, but she’d told them to stay inside in case one or both returned while she was gone.

Now, however, she was starting to think that maybe she should have accepted their help. 

Crowley scented the air with her tongue every second, but couldn’t pick up Rose's _or_ her Angel’s smell against the overpowering ozone-smell of the surrounding storm.

“Angel! Rose!” she howled against the wind.

_“Sister! Sister!!”_

Crowley saw Rose wiggling towards her and she snatched her up without a moment’s hesitation, worry writ plain on every line of her face. “Rose! Are you alright? Where’s Zira?”

_“I’m okay, but the Sister-Stealer needs help! She's hurt!”_ Rose frantically exclaimed.

She pointed in the opposite direction with the tip of her tail and Crowley’s breath hitched. She carefully set her back down.

“I’m going to help her. The cave isn’t far. Can you make it back alone?”

Rose nodded and rushed for their shelter. Crowley, meanwhile, hurried to the area her sister had indicated while screaming for her mate to answer him.

It didn’t take long for her to find the human.

The blonde was flat on her back, sunken slightly into the rain-suffused earth with a fallen branch across her chest that had to have been at _least_ 50 kilos!

Crowley noticed she wasn’t struggling.

_“ANGEL!!”_

***~*~*~*~***

For Zira, everything had gone a little fuzzy around the edges. It was getting harder and harder to fill her lungs with every breath as the branch pressed down tighter on her ribs. She'd ceased trying to push it off when it proved too heavy and realized that the exertions of doing so just wasted precious oxygen. Her best chance was to just hold still, keep calm, and wait for Crowley’s inevitable rescue.

Assuming Rose _had_ gone for help and not just left her out in the rain to die.

_Oh don’t talk about our dear Rose like that. She may be upset with me, but she’s not a murderer! I do hope she’s safe, though…_

The branch compressed her a little more, and a little more air was lost to never be retrieved. She could feel the blood pounding in her skull, and her heart beating a frantic tattoo against the inside of her chest, which was rapidly becoming more and more cramped for space. It felt like everything she saw and heard was covered in a layer of TV static.

_“ANGEL!!”_

Except for that.

Zira's head rolled to the side and, through her blurred vision, she could see Crowley crouched down beside her with both hands gripping the underside of the branch. The naga’s eyes were wild with fear, and Zira couldn’t tell if it were tears or rainwater that flowed down her friend’s face.

_Do be careful with that, dear. Don’t throw your back out. Practice proper lifting technique. Lift with your legs- er- never mind then._

She may have been slightly delirious.

Crowley, however, lifted her end of the branch like it weighed little more than a small terrier. 

_I shouldn’t be surprised. She **is** quite strong. I wonder what the most she can lift is?_

Once the weight was gone from her chest, Zira felt a coil of tail curl around her wrist to drag her away from the branch as Crowley dropped it back to the ground with a tremendous thud. Zira started to try and breathe properly again, but the bruises on her skin and battered muscles of her diaphragm made it difficult to do so without pain.

Every inhale was torturous, every exhale a relief. So focused was she on closing her eyes and trying to will the pain away, that she barely noticed Crowley gathering her up.

_“Pleasssssse,_ angel. _Please_ wake up!” Crowley begged, sounding absolutely _wretched._

_Goodness, I haven’t let my dear serpent know that I’m alright, have I?_

Though it took quite a bit of effort to do so, Zira craned open her eyes to smile up at the being who had come to her rescue for the umpteenth time.

“Thank you for the-” She took a less painful breath. “-the timely intervention, dear girl.”

Crowley let out a desperate laugh wet with- yes those were tears.

“Angel!” she sobbed in relief and kissed her.

Crowley’s lips against Zira's were so nice and warm compared to the relative chill of the storm. The redhead clutched her tighter, afraid to let her go. Zira winced at the increased pressure, and Crowley had to slacken her hold, breaking the kiss. “Sorry, angel.”

Zira chuckled weakly. “It’s alright, my dear. Could we go inside now, though? It’s a bit damp out here.”

“Of course,”

Crowley moved through the storm like it wasn’t even there. The only evidence that she even was aware of it, was a slight adjusting of her grip to ensure Zira didn’t get blown away, and the way her carmine hair snapped about her head in the gusts.

She was a _sight_ ; tall and imposing with the rainwater clinging to her like a second skin and the stony, determined set to her brow- oh, Zira had to fight not to swoon like a Victorian waif.

_"And she’s all for me,"_ she thought somewhat giddily and snuggled into those comforting arms.

Maybe Zira was still a bit delirious…

Maybe.

At least, that was what she was telling herself to justify the swooping feeling in her stomach everytime Crowley’s eyes flitted to her to make sure she was still breathing.

They reached the cave in record time, where they saw Rose, Blanche, Dorothy, and Sophia gathered anxiously around the entrance, awaiting their sister's and Zira's return.

Sophia was the first to inquire about the human’s safety by way of a distressed tail rattle.

“She's alright, Sophia. We both are,”

All four snakes relaxed, though Rose’s body language was colored with guilt. Crowley threw her a glare that melted into gentle concern when she looked back at Zira.

“Thank you for saving my sister,” she said with a soft kiss to the blonde’s forehead.

“I would do it again, my dear. She means a lot to you, therefore she means a lot to me,” Zira sighed contentedly.

Her chest (and, unfortunately, breasts) still ached, and would most likely have a large bruise, but seeing Crowley pleased at having her older sister alive and unharmed was more than worth it. Zira truly meant what she’d said about gladly charging into a hurricane all over again if it meant keeping Crowley happy.

_But would you stay on this island for her? Would you forsake all others to remain here?_

That thought didn’t sound like herself _or_ Imaginary-Anathema. It didn’t sound like Imaginary-Gabriel (who had yet to make an appearance, thankfully - Zira wasn’t sure if she could handle that) _or_ that bitter, spiteful voice that accused her of being manipulative.

It sounded soft, genuinely inquisitive.

_I… I don’t want her to be sad, but…_

She didn’t think anymore after that. She let himself be dried off and fussed over instead. It was easier than dealing with conflicted emotions.

Crowley had taken one of the blankets from their nest and was toweling off Zira's hair.

“Rose is in _ssssso much trouble_ ,” the naga kept saying. “She almossssst got you killed; almost got _herself_ killed!”

Zira had never seen her so _angry_ before. Crowley’s eyes, the sclera normally a warm amber, had gone almost fluorescent yellow in her fury and were actually _glowing._ Black scales broke out up and down her arms as her fangs elongated, drawing out the “s” sounds of her words.

Zira pushed the cloth away and took one of Crowley’s hands in hers. “My dear, are you alright? You’re starting to… change.”

She turned the redhead’s palm down to show her the back of her own hand. Crowley startled and tried to yank it back, but Zira held firm.

“S-sssssorry, angel. I- I can’t always control it,” the naga said, looking away and frowning in shame.

Zira tutted and kissed the patch of scales on her friend’s hand. They sank back down under the skin at her caring touch.

_Ah. It seems Crowley’s more “monstrous” aspects are triggered by her emotional state._

The idea of Crowley getting angry and transforming into something horrific _should_ have terrified Zira. It _should_ have sent her fleeing into the storm, preferring to take her chances out there than with the “monster” in the cave.

It did neither.

She knew on all levels, superficial _and_ deep down, knew it with every fibre of her being, every scrap of her soul, that Crowley would never hurt her.

She continued lavering sweet little pecks to every scaly patch on both of Crowley’s arms until they were all gone, propped herself on her knees to kiss both eyelids to return their natural color, then finally pushed her tongue into the redhead’s mouth for a kiss equal parts tender and passionate. She felt the fangs in the other’s mouth retract to their standard (if still longer than a human’s canines) length and smiled against Crowley’s mouth.

“Don’t be too angry at Rose,” Zira sighed when it ended. “She was just upset because she thinks I’ll either hurt you or take you away from her.”

Crowley grumbled as an answer, but it wasn’t a “no”. One of her hands pushed Zira lightly down into the nest by her shoulders while the other began rucking up the blonde’s blouse.

Crowley, however, immediately stopped when she heard Zira suck in a shaky breath.

"I'm jussst trying to check on your... erm... chest. For injuriesssssss," the naga explained, giving her chosen mate an apologetic glance. "I... is that okay? Do I have your permission?"

Zira swallowed and nodded her head slightly. "Y-yes. That's perfectly fine. Thank you for asking," she said breathlessly, face pinking. This wasn't the first time Crowley had seen her bare breasts, but it _was_ the first time she'd undressed her. The air was heavy with the weight of that knowledge, and Crowley appeared to want to respect the difference between undressing oneself and _being_ undressed by someone else.

"That's... um... good," she said shakily. She hesitated for a moment before lifting the blouse up and over Zira's ample chest, revealing the blonde's rain-soaked sports bra.[1] "I promise I'll be gentle."

Zira allowed her sodden blouse to be pulled over her head and tossed into the corner with a wet splat. Already her pale skin (now dusted with a few freckles from her time in the tropical sun) was stained with an inky-purple bruise which stretched from one underarm to the other. The rest of it vanished beneath the cups of her bra. The bruise wasn't dangerous, but it _was_ unsightly. Zira could already picture it fading to a mottled, adipocere-like[2] colour.

Crowley seemed to have caught on to Zira's unhappy musings on the state of her body, and moved to act. She lowered herself down until her torso was bracketed by the blonde’s thighs.

"Dear?"

"I'm, uh... gonna try sssssomething if that's alright with you. C-can I ta- take thisss off?" she squeaked. She gave a small, pointed tug at Zira's brastrap. 

Zira fought down the urge to hide her face. "C-c-certainly!" she said haltingly. "You can unhook the clasps at the front."

Crowley swallowed, then fumbled with the clasps for a moment before the bra popped open. Zira winced at the sudden jostling of her sore breasts. Crowley lifted her eyes to meet Zira's, double-checking that she still had permission to continue, and was met with another tiny nod. The naga sighed with relief and began pressing loving kisses to every inch of bruised and battered skin.

Zira just barely managed to keep her alread-present blush from becoming fluorescent. She felt delighted and blindsided in equal measure from the tender yet seductive energy her friend was giving off. When Crowley’s lips brushed over her nipple, Zira couldn’t stifle the tiny moan that tripped from her throat. At the sound of it, Crowley’s eyes opened to look up at the other woman from where she was positioned between her legs. 

The naga sent her a teasing smile, and Zira started to imagine what that same smirk would look like while Crowley’s tongue slid through her folds.

_"Good Lord!"_ she squeaked internally and finally slapped her hands over her eyes, as if that would block out the tantalizing vision.

Zira would forever be grateful that her leggings were soaked through with frigid water. 

It certainly kept - ah - _parts_ of herself cool.

She wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. Was she going to uncover her eyes and see Crowley’s intense face hovering just inches away, ready to act on what they both were clearly feeling? Was Zira going to make some excuse about being too tired? Was she just going to throw caution to the wind and let Crowley _take her?!_

_No. Not that last one. I can’t do that to her. I will **not** take advantage of her more than I already have._

From above her, Crowley sighed in frustration.

“My sisters are here,”

Zira peeled her hands away from her face and glanced at the entrance to their nest. Blanche, Dorothy, and Sophia were all clamoring over each other to get into the room, but Rose was hanging back in the shadows, obviously unsure if she was even welcome.

Crowley dangled her tail over the edge of the cushion pile which enabled the smaller three to scale her like a tree.

Blanche made it up first and began hissing loudly into Zira's ear.

“What is she saying, my dear?” the human giggled, pushing her away a little so her tongue wasn’t tickling her.

“She’s saying, ‘Thank you for saving Rose, even if she _is_ kind of stupid’,” Crowley translated.

Sophia rattled her tail as an agreement, ever mute. Dorothy simply curled around Zira's wrist and batted her head against it as if reassuring herself Zira was unharmed. The human brought her ensnared wrist up to her face to nuzzle noses with the little anxious snake.

“There, there, little one, I’m alright. Your sister made sure of that,” She looked back to the doorway. “What about you, Rose my darling? Don’t you want to be part of this cuddle puddle?”

Rose lifted her head slightly, genuinely surprised that she was being invited in the face of her near-catastrophic temper-tantrum. She looked at Crowley for confirmation, who nodded her head and held out her arms.

“Get over here, sister,”

Rose moved faster than she had in a long time and practically threw herself into the pile of snakes (and one human). There was a fair bit of jostling, rearranging of bodies, and even a pained grunt as Crowley was accidentally elbowed in the forehead, but the six of them managed to contort themselves into a way that allowed enough room for everyone.

Zira hummed happily, her head resting on the crook of Crowley’s arm, when Rose placed her large head against hers cheek-to-cheek and began hissing.

“What’s Rose saying?”

Crowley curled her arm, enveloping both Zira and Rose in a side-hug. “She’s saying that she’s sorry for getting you hurt and that she was wrong about you. She wants to be your friend, and have your forgiveness, if you can give it.”

“There’s _nothing_ to forgive, precious thing,” Zira answered, running her hands over the length of Rose's body for as long as she could reach. “And you may have my friendship, so long as I have yours.”

Rose snuggled closer to Zira, who held her and, in turn, was hugged by Crowley, making the three of them a matryoshka doll of love and forgiveness. 

Outside, the hurricane raged on.

Inside, everything was safe, and warm, and just where it should be.

***~*~*~*~***

1As anyone who's ever had a cup size larger than a C will tell you, sports bras are _essential._ [return to text]

2Adipocere is a greyish-yellow-green substance that is produced from corpses in a moist environment. DO NOT Google a picture of it unless you're prepared to be grossed-out.[return to text]


	7. The Doomed Colonies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get a little peek into the island's backstory, hinting that there might be more to our naga love-interest than meets the eye...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware that this chapter contains mild Horror Elements.

**Three Days Later**

As soon as the hurricane had moved on from the search area, Gabriel was on the phone with Captain Medina to ask when the sweep of the island could begin. 

“Mr. Fell, we’re doing all we can, but there are legal matters we have to see to before we can continue the search,” Medina said carefully.

“‘Legal matters’?” spat Gabriel. _“What_ are you talking about?”

Medina sighed in a way that suggested she had been hoping that Gabriel wouldn’t ask.

“Look, Mr. Fell, I’ll be up front with you. The island that you suspect Zira washed up on is under legal protection by the governments of France, Spain, _and_ the U.K. as a nature preserve. Visitation to the island has been outlawed since 1912, and not even conservationists or wildlife biologists are allowed to set foot on it,”

“What?! If it’s a nature preserve why aren’t _scientists_ of all people allowed to go there?!” came Gabriel’s fierce reply.

“From what I can gather, sir, the island is simply _too dangerous_ for human visitation. It’s home to large, aggressive species of snakes and has been the location of _no less than nine_ failed colonization attempts by all of the governments I just listed dating all the way back to 1733,” the Captain said. “The simple fact of the matter is that my men and I _can’t_ check the island without proper clearance; to do so would be to cause an international incident. I can submit an application to all three governments requesting visitation permission citing extenuating circumstances, but beyond that, there’s nothing more I can do.”

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose. He was struggling to maintain his composure and wasn’t sure if he’d either burst into desperate sobs or verbally tear the woman on the other end of the line a new one. Neither was likely to get his sister back, so Gabriel swallowed down the tears and the vitriol.

“What’s this ‘forbidden island’ even called, anyway?” he frowned.

“Depends on who you ask. The Spanish accounts of the colonies call it ‘La Isla del Diablo’ and the English colonists simply called it ‘Hell’. Don’t bother asking for any French records of it, the French government refuses to even acknowledge its existence to anyone except those with the right credentials. If you’d like, I can forward you what information I _do_ have and you can look it over for yourself while we await authorization,”

“Thank you, Captain Medina. I would appreciate that,” Gabriel replied. “How long do you think it will take to hear back about getting approval to search the island?”

“Anywhere from a few days to two weeks,”

The younger Fell sibling muttered something under his breath that sounding like, _“fucking bureaucracy”_.

**_*~*~*~*~*_ **

The sun felt nothing short of _Heavenly_ when Zira stepped out of the cave for the first (well, technically second) time since the hurricane began. All around her were bent and broken trees, uprooted plants, and places where the ground was more liquid than soil. Despite the destruction, however, life had returned to the jungle in the form of its birds and other wildlife.

Zira did a little twirl a la Julia Roberts, basking in the warmth and light. She spun a little _too hard_ and would have fallen over were she not caught by a pair of hands.

“Easy there, angel. Don’t make yourself sick,” Crowley said, her voice laced with fondness.

“I can do whatever I want! I’m celebrating!”

Zira took Crowley by the hands and somehow managed to drag her into an impromptu dance, though to an outsider it looked more like the taller one swaying side to side on her tail and the smaller one jumping up and down giddily than _actual_ dancing.

A trio of _furious_ hisses suddenly rang out through the air accompanied by an equally incensed rattle. Zira flinched and pressed closer to Crowley.

“Goodness me! Have I done something to upset your sisters?” the human asked, clearly worried that her dancing might have been crossing a previously unknown line.

“No, you haven’t. They’ve just started on getting the jungle back to its old self,”

Zira observed Sophia menacing a ficus with her rattle. “And… how do they do that?”

“By helping me whip the plants back into shape,” the naga explained. “Watch this.”

Crowley slithered over to a battered shrub. She folded her hands behind her back, straightened her posture, and told the plant, “I see you were too weak to withstand the storm. Yet somehow, despite your pathetic incompetence, you remain standing.” Zira could only watch, mystified, as Crowley continued _threatening_ the jungle. “I don’t know how or why you weren’t reduced to a _worthless_ pile of splinters, but allow me to make one thing clear… _GROW BETTER NEXT TIME OR SO HELP ME_ ** _SOMEBODY,_** _I WILL TURN YOU INTO MULCH AND USE YOU TO LINE MY SISTERS’ DENS!!”_

The plant, despite all known laws of nature dictating its inability to do so, actually _trembled_ under the force of Crowley’s threats and forced itself to spontaneously grow new shoots. The naga sniffed disdainfully before returning to Zira's side.

“See? Nothing to it. Just gotta remind ‘em who’s the Big Boss around here,”

“Well it’s certainly… effective,” the human winced in sympathy for the poor dears.

***~*~*~*~***

Gabriel came out of the bathroom, toweling off his still-wet hair, and froze when he caught sight of Anathema sitting at his kitchen table furiously typing away at her laptop while that _fucking_ yacht Captain (Salamander? Lizard?) leaned over her shoulder to peer at the screen.

“How did you get in here?” Gabriel demanded of his friend. “And what’s _he_ doing here?”

The Captain flinched, but Anathema never bothered looking up from her computer as she waved him off.

“I know where you hide your spare key,” she said back. “I wanted to do some more research about that island with you, but you weren’t answering your phone, so I just let myself in.”

“I was in the _shower!”_ Gabriel sputtered. “You could have walked in on me naked or something!”

"It's nothing I haven't seen before," Anathema replied airily. "Remember that time when the three of us got drunk in Pamplona and dared each other to go streaking to see who could run the farthest before getting caught?"[1]

Gabriel tilted his head to the side and nodded slightly with arched eyebrows, conceding the point. 

Newt’s face fell. “Oh are you two…” he pointed between the both of them. “...together?”

Immediately Gabriel and Anathema objected vociferously to the idea.

_“She’s_ too weird!”

_“He’s_ too boring!”

_“She’s_ waaay too committed to her ‘aesthetic’. Just like my sister!”

_“He_ dresses like some fopped up CEO!”

“I _am_ a CEO!”

“It’s a _startup!”_

Newt flinched back, hands raised in surrender.

“M-my bad! I just didn’t want to presume is all…”

Anathema returned to her typing and Gabriel to his questioning as if they _hadn’t_ just sent a few barbs each other’s way.

The younger Fell sibling gestured at Newt. “That still doesn’t explain why _he’s_ here.” 

“He wants to _help,_ Gabe,” she groaned, shaking her head. “I told him what Captain Medina told _us_ about the island being a forbidden nature preserve and Newt said he would offer whatever assistance he could.”

The Captain nodded. “I feel bad about what happened to your brother. I’ve never had a passenger go overboard before and I figured that I should at least _try_ to help a little.”

At that, Anathema pointed to her screen. “I’ve been reading over the information about it that Captain Medina sent us, but a few things stand out to me as being… weird.”

Newt scooted over to allow Gabriel to come stand behind Anathema and read over her shoulder.

“Apparently the island was _first_ discovered by Spanish sailors in 1733. Unfortunately, as they were trying to bring their galleon ashore to restock supplies, the entire ship ran aground. Nobody’s quite sure what happened to them, but no survivors of the wreck were found when the Spanish showed up there _again_ in 1741,”

“Wait, if nobody survived, how do we know they first landed there in 1733?” Gabriel asked, interrupting Anathema.

The woman pointed to an image of a faded, yellowed scrap of paper.

“This is a piece of the ship’s log. In Spanish, it reads: ‘March 30, 1733. Unmarked landmass spotted by lookout. Will attempt to establish contact with natives’. No more log entries were ever recorded, so it stands to reason they crashed shortly thereafter,”

“I thought there were no people living on that island,” Gabriel said carefully, furrowing his brow.

“There aren’t! In fact, there _never_ were. The 1733 crew just _thought_ there might be, as nobody had ever made landfall there previously. There are _nine_ other recorded visits, and none of them ever caught sight of any native peoples. Just look at this one! The Spanish stumbled across the island _again_ in 1741 while attempting to establish a port colony to better defend their galleons against pirate raids and _this time_ they actually managed to make it inland and set up a colony they called ‘Ovejero’.”

“What happened to that one?”

Newt was now practically draped over Anathema’s other shoulder opposite Gabriel, eager to hear more.

“Ovejero didn’t last long. They started having food shortages and crop failures. One farmer who came on the voyage to feed the colonists was reported as saying that it felt like the crops were all too _scared_ to grow, as they just rattled as if there were a breeze, even while no wind was present. When the food got too low to sustain the town, everyone packed up to return to Spain and Ovejero was abandoned,”

Gabriel scoffed. “Scared plants? What is this, ‘Lost’?”

Anathema shot him a glare and he allowed her to continue.

“The French were the next to attempt to build a port on the island in 1745. This one, however, simply ran out of funding from the home country and left the settlement too,” the occultist swallowed nervously. “From there on, things got worse for people who visited the island…”

All three of them felt a frisson of fear up their spine that they couldn’t quite place.

“England finally took a stab at settling it in 1791, and called their town ‘Phillips Colony’. This one, however, actually managed to come prepared with plenty of supplies and money to last a long time. They were driven away, however, by something the people claimed ‘stalked them in the night’. Livestock were butchered, crops and supplies destroyed, and people who stayed out too long after dark mysteriously vanished, with no trace of them ever being found,”

_“Fuck,”_ Gabriel whispered.

“Did they ever find out what was attacking them?” Newt asked, worried.

“No. No physical descriptions of the assailant exist. The only ones who could tell us what it looked like are the ones who disappeared, and they’ll never get the chance to…”

***~*~*~*~***

Zira's post-hurricane island cleanup efforts were going smoothly. With Crowley’s help, she’d managed to re-clear their path to the beach and rockpool. 

Though now she had this huge pile of useless, fallen timber to contend with… maybe she could build something with it. She didn’t think she’d be able to craft a sea-worthy vessel without the proper instructions, but surely a simple raft was doable? If nothing else, once they dried they’d be decent firewood.

“Crowley, my dear, would you mind terribly if I kept these? I think they could be useful for-” She turned around and noticed that her friend was no longer there. “Crowley?” She turned again. “Dear?”

From behind, she was seized by her waist and hoisted into the air with a squeak of surprise.

“A-ha! I have captured the elusive Angel! She is now within my grasp!” Crowley cackled evilly.

Zira threw a hand across her forehead and pretended to swoon. “Oh woe is me! I am at the mercy of the great Crowley, the _fiercest beast_ in all the land! I never even heard her coming, and now I am _doomed_ because of my own folly!”

Crowley lowered Zira to the ground with a chuckle. “I _am_ very sneaky, angel.”

***~*~*~*~***

“Captain Medina told me there were _nine_ doomed colonies. What happened to the other five?” Gabriel asked.

“I’m getting there!” Anathema scolded him. “The Spanish came back in 1796 to set up a seaside fort against pirates called ‘Fort San Eduardo’. The night that construction was completed, the _entire thing_ burned to the ground. The occupants who _weren’t_ killed in the fire fled into the jungle beyond to escape the blaze. None of them survived, save for _one man_ who managed to escape out to sea in a small boat. He nearly died from exposure on the open ocean, but was picked up by a passing Chinese merchant ship. Apparently, by the time he was found, the sole survivor of the attack on Fort San Eduardo was stark raving mad. He kept babbling about a ‘beast with eyes of fire’ who dragged the humans of Fort San Eduardo into the jungle to rip them to pieces. He claimed that he could still see the creature’s eyes every time he closed his own, and hear the sounds of wet tearing whenever he tried to sleep. By the time the merchant ship who rescued him arrived home in Shanghai, the man had hung himself in his cabin.”

The silence following Anathema’s words practically had a physical presence. Gabriel dropped heavily onto the couch with a breathless curse and Newt had gone green.

“The same thing happened again in 1833 when the Spanish tried to settle the island one final time,” Anathema continued quietly. “They named the island Santa Victoria, but the colony was once again set ablaze. No survivors this time.”

***~*~*~*~***

“I never quite thanked you for the flint and steel you gave me the first day I came here,” Zira said.

She dumped another little heap of scavenged wood in the corner of the salvage room. Crowley did the same with her more sizable pile.

“You would have been rubbing those sticks together _forever_ if I hadn’t,” the naga snickered softly, dusting off her own hands.

Zira gazed at their rapidly growing supply of wood taken from trees felled during the hurricane and pursed her lips thoughtfully. 

“Something on your mind, angel?”

“Well, dear, I was just thinking that it might be a fun idea to have a little beach-side bonfire tonight to celebrate the end of the storm. We can catch some fish to roast, maybe find some wild vegetables to add to it, then go for a night swim or lay on the sand and watch the stars,” Zira sighed dreamily. “Just you and me.”

Crowley smiled, delighted at the idea. “Sounds _wonderful,_ angel.”

***~*~*~*~***

“The French gave two more back-to-back attempts at colonizing the island before giving up entirely like their Spanish contemporaries,” Anathema read. “One time in 1864, wherein they named the place Saint Alcest Island, and again in 1876 when they built a town called Mathieu-Royal. Both times were, of course, failures. The 1864 one ended with starvations related to, again, destroyed crops, butchered livestock, and pilfered supplies which drove the people away. Mathieu-Royal faced the usual death and destruction. Again, with no survivors.”

Newt counted on his fingers. “That’s only eight attempts. What happened to the ninth, and final, one?” he asked.

Anathema smirked and held a hand over her heart like she was back in American public school saying the Pledge of Allegiance. 

“Jolly Old England is what happened. The English like to think they were made of tougher stuff than the other two and claimed the island in the name of Queen Victoria in 1881. They called their settlement ‘Houghton’, after the man leading the expedition,” she said.

Gabriel groaned. “Let me guess: attacked?”

“No, actually. At least, not entirely,”

_That_ surprised Gabriel and Newt into silence. Anathema’s face was crumpled in confusion. 

“According to this, on the morning of September 29, 1881 - three months after establishing Houghton - a hunting party ventured into the surrounding jungle to look for game. When they came back that evening, the fledgling town was _completely empty,”_ she said, baffled.

“Just like Roanoke!” Gabriel gasped.

Anathema snapped her fingers at him into a “you get it” gesture. “Apparently there were no signs of a struggle, such as ruined buildings or bodies in the street, but there _were_ scraps of bloodstained clothing scattered around. None of the missing townspeople were ever recovered, and the surviving hunting party left the island in fear for their lives. No cause for the disappearances was ever discovered, but there _was_ this drawing that hinted towards something _supernatural.”_ She turned her laptop around to show Gabriel the screen.

The younger Fell sibling sucked in air through his teeth at the image. It was drawn in haste, probably by someone who was illiterate and using it as a way to get the message out about what had killed them before it descended. 

The creature, for no other word could describe it, had a long, thick snake tail attached to the bottom of a man’s torso that was leaner than a healthy human’s normally was. With the picture just being a sketch, it was hard to tell the color of its eyes, but the slitted pupil was evidence enough to prove the wrongness of them. The drawing of the creature showed its jaw unhinged, revealing a serpentine tongue sticking out past needle-thin fangs 8 centimeters long.

Gabriel didn’t necessarily _believe_ that the creature existed, but the thought of Zira potentially being trapped on the island with a monster like that… he shivered.

***~*~*~*~***

The night was warm and cloudless. Zira lay on her back in the sand on the beach with her arms folded across her stomach and gazing up at the star-studded sky.

“Those were one of the first things I noticed upon arriving here,” she finally said after a long silence wherein the only sounds to be heard were the singing of the waves and the crackling of the small bonfire.

“What were?” Crowley asked, rolling over onto her side for a better look at the human lounging next to her.

Zira swept her hands through the air as if reaching up to touch the twinkling lights far above. “The _stars,_ of course. They were so beautiful and I was so _moved_ that I just… just…”

Crowley took one of her outstretched hands and pulled it back down to earth.

“The first night you came here, I heard you talking to the sky. You sounded like you were talking to your mother. You said you hoped she was up there,” she said as she brought Zira's hand to her lips.

The human sniffled. “I… I did. I never knew my father, and my mother died quite suddenly after I turned twenty-one. My younger brother, Gabriel, was only sixteen at the time and depended on me to raise him the rest of the way to adulthood. That was five years ago. He’s now as old as I was when I lost mother, and now he’s lost me too.”

“You’ve never told me about your life before you came to this island, came to _me._ What’s your brother like?” the naga quietly asked.

“ _Oh_ he’s a _brute,”_ the blonde groaned. “I did my best to teach him to be a proper gentleman but he prefers strutting about like he’s the cock-of-the-walk. It drives Anathema _crazy.”_

“Who’s Anathema?”

Zira smiled. “She was my best friend before I arrived here. We met in high school and ended up enrolled in the same university. I went on to graduate with an English degree to pursue a writing career and _she_ actually dropped out a year or two after enrollment to open her own occult items store called ‘Witch’s Whimzy’. Turns out she’s got quite the head for business and her shop is booming.”

“You write books? What do you write?” Crowley asked.

“Romantic Fiction. My most recent work was _The Mermaid’s Tale_ and it sold one million copies recently! That’s the whole reason I ended up on this island. My brother threw a celebration on a boat, and I fell over. Quite clumsy of me, really,” Zira replied.

“I don’t really read much. I _can,_ don’t get me wrong, it’s just kind of boring,” Crowley whined. “Not a lot of books survive being jettisoned, but the ones that did had a water-tight container. I think I’ve got at least a box or two. Do you want them?”

Zira sat bolt upright fast enough to send sand flying.

“Really? I can have them?” she asked, eyes alight with child-like excitement.

“Of course, angel. You don’t have to ask me. Everything in the salvage room is just as much yours as it is mine,” Crowley answered with tender honesty in her voice.

Zira shrieked like a person whose long-term partner just got down on one knee with an engagement ring and flung herself atop Crowley to squeeze the naga in an embrace that would have given Rose a run for her money. “Thankyouthankyou _thankyou,_ my dear! I’ve missed reading like you wouldn’t _believe.”_

Crowley hugged her back with a teasingly raised eyebrow. “Oh I think I have _some_ idea of how much you missed it.”

“Don’t you start ridiculing me, missy!”

“Angel, I would _never,”_ the naga taunted in a falsetto voice.

Zira “hmph”-ed and lifted herself up enough to where she could smile warmly down at her friend from where she was perched atop the naga’s hips.

“I mean it, though, Crowley. _Thank you,”_ she stressed.

“I mean it too when I say ‘anything for you, angel’. I’d take you to your mother’s stars, if I could,”

“I know you would, dear,” Zira whispered.

She lowered her torso down to Crowley’s and captured her mouth in a slow kiss.

“Sssssaid I didn’t _need_ ‘thank you’ kisses,” the naga objected, her words muffled and distorted against Zira's mouth.

“This isn’t one,” Zira said, and it earned her a surprised noise. “I’m giving you a kiss because you just… you make me _so happy.”_

And it was true. Zira _was_ happy. Happier than she ever thought she’d be, considering where she was and who she was with. Though that treacherous guilt gnawed at her thoughts constantly, it was getting harder and harder for her to be properly motivated by it. 

Every single moment that went by, she was tempted more and more to simply throw her hands up in (not miserable) defeat and just accept her new life as Crowley’s mate. Gabriel and Anathema most likely thought she was dead, so coming back would be quite the shock. No rescue had ever come, so it was clear that nobody had any idea where to look for her. 

Zira knew that Crowley would keep her safe and happy, despite her missing the comforts of her old life back in London like sushi and her flat and the sounds of Strauss piping through her car’s radio…

_"Radio, Zira! You can leave if you just find a_ ** _radio!,"_** the bitter voice in her head screamed.

_And what if I_ _**don’t** find a radio, hm? What if Crowley doesn’t have one? _

The voice didn’t have an answer for her, Zira observed with smug satisfaction.

_I will_ _**not** have you spoiling my lovely evening with your constant prattling about what I should and should not do. _

The voice retreated back into her psyche and Zira dove into another kiss with wild abandon. She was riding the high of successfully willing away her negative thoughts, opening her mouth for Crowley to plunder it with her tongue.

The naga quickly changed their positions, flipping Zira onto her back to pin her to the sand.

“You make me so happy too, angel. Happier than I’ve _ever_ been,” she murmured against the skin of the blonde’s throat.

“Oh, _Crowley!”_

Zira wrapped her arms around her friend’s shoulders and embraced her tightly. Crowley’s admission had made her giddy, almost as much as the books had.

No other kisses were exchanged that night in favor of simply lying tangled together in the sand and watching the moon rise.

Together.

***~*~*~*~***

**8 Days Later**

It had taken Captain Medina just over a week to get the clearance necessary for her and her men to sweep the island, with the stipulation being that they only had 24 hours to do it.

Gabriel had emphatically protested the condition until Anathema gently reminded him that one day was better than not being able to go at _all._

“Yeah!” Newt, who was quickly becoming a friend, emphasized. “Plus, they’ll have trained professionals, high-tech searching equipment, and weapons to defend themselves! Zira's in no safer hands!”

Gabriel had felt marginally better at the mention of “weapons” (the image of the monster reputed to haunt the island was still fresh in his mind, despite his overall skepticism of its existence). 

Anathema swept out of Gabriel’s kitchen holding aloft a bottle of wine and three glasses.

“I say Zira's as good as found! So let’s just kick back, have a drink because we’ve earned it, and spend these next 24 hours binging Bollywood movies!” she declared with all the panache of a conquering hero.

Newt whooped, but Gabriel just hummed.

He didn’t want to get his hopes completely up just yet. If there _was_ a murderous creature loose on the island, then Medina’s team would be in for the fight of their lives...

***~*~*~*~***

Zira was cozied up in their nest, _just_ about to get to the good part in her book, when Crowley burst into the room looking wild-eyed and frantic. She looked as she did the day of the hurricane, glowing eyes, fangs and all. _This time,_ however, the scales had spread _entirely_ from her tail to cover the skin of her human half all the way over her face to where her hair joined her scalp.

“Crowley? What’s going on?” Zira asked.

“We need to go, angel, _now!”_

“‘Go’? Go where? You aren’t making any sense!”

Crowley slithered forward as fast as a cobra strike and pulled Zira to her feet. “I _promise_ to explain everything soon, but we _need_ to get out of here! There’s… something’s coming.”

“What do you mean ‘something’s coming’? Tell me what’s happening!”

Crowley’s eyes burned like yellow fire in the comparatively dim light of their nest. She started dragging Zira froward “Come _on,_ angel! _Now!”_

Whatever was coming, it was clear that Crowley was terrified. Zira didn’t know what it was that could make her friend act like it was Armaggeddon, but she didn’t want to stick around long enough to find out.

The human put her arms around Crowley’s neck, who promptly lifted her up. “Alright, dear, let’s go.”

“Thank you, angel. _Thank you._ The nest isn’t a safe place to be right now, so I’m going to take you somewhere that _is,”_

Crowley ended up bringing her to the rockpool, explaining that there was an underwater tunnel inside that opened into a small cave system in a pocket of air.

“Hold your breath. It’s a bit of a swim,”

Zira did so, and the two of them plunged into the water. Crowley dove down a few meters to where a hole big enough for two to stand abreast appeared. Her thick tail powered them through the claustrophobic tunnel in record time and Zira was soon gasping for breath on dry ground inside the underwater cave.

“Okay,” she panted, wicking water out of her eyes. “We’re safe. Now will you _please_ tell me what’s going on?”

“I will when I get back,”

“Wait, _what?!”_ Zira grabbed her hands to keep her from leaving. “Where are you going?”

Crowley gently freed herself.

“I have to drive them off,” she said. “They never leave, otherwise, and just destroy and kill everything in their path.”

“What does? What’s out there?”

The glow in Crowley’s eyes brightened in its intensity.

“Monsters,”

Then she was splashing back into the water before Zira could stop her.

***~*~*~*~***

1Zira had won the contest, but only because Gabriel ended up tripping into an open manhole and Anathema had gotten arrested for public indecency before she even got the chance to run.[return to text]


	8. Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley doesn't understand why the "monsters" are here and makes a decision that will have far-reaching consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how it works for other countries, but in the various U.S. military branches, female officers go by the honorific "ma'am" instead of "sir".

Captain Carla Medina stepped onto the beach and triple-checked her gear.

_Ropes, Harness, Straps, Pulleys, Hooks, Supply Pack, Radio, Torch… Check, check, and check..._

Behind her, she heard Seaman Apprentice Cassidy, one of the nine other members of her squadron, utter a panicked squawk.

“C-captain, ma'am, there’s a crab here! It won’t stop trying to _pinch me!”_

Medina groaned and turned, ready to lecture the youngest member on what constituted _real_ threats, when she saw the young man punt the crustacean into the ocean with the tip of his boot.

“For _fuck’s sake,_ Cassidy! Have some respect for the wildlife!” Medina snarled and cuffed the boy over his head. “Last thing we need is to get in trouble because _you_ couldn’t stop messing with Sebastian there!”

“S-sorry, Captain!”

_Not even 10 minutes into this mission and I’m already regretting it…_

“Captain, ma'am! I think I found something!”

Further up the beach, close to the treeline, Apprentice Sidra was crouched beside an orange clump. Medina came up next to her.

“What are we looking at, Sidra?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow.

The other woman closed her hands around the thing and wrenched it out from where it was practically buried in the sand. “It’s… it’s an old life jacket.”

Medina took it from her to check for a serial tag. If the number on it matched the one that Zira had been wearing when she went overboard, it would be definitive _proof_ that the woman was on the island!

Sure enough, the numbers stitched into the inside collar matched the life vest Captain Newton had reported missing from his boat!

“We have confirmation that Zira Fell was here!” Medina said loud enough for the rest of her squad to hear.

The other seven of them crowded around the life jacket to gawk at it. “Do you think she’s still… you know?” one of them asked.

“Only one way to find out…”

Medina withdrew her pistol, flicked the safety off, then tucked it back into its holster. “Alright, Apprentices, listen up! This place is known to have dangerous predators so we go quickly, but carefully. Don’t have your weapons at-ready, but _do_ keep the safeties off. Fan out and search the area, but remain within sight and shouting distance, am I clear?”

“Ma'am, yes ma'am!”

***~*~*~*~***

Crowley watched the entire exchange from the beach.

_Humans._

With the exception of her Angel, it had been a long, _long_ time since she’d last laid eyes on a human. As soon as she saw them making landfall on their strange, metallic boats, Crowley began making a plan to frighten them off.

Maybe some good old fashioned monster noises? A terrifying glare from beyond the shadows? Throwing things and stealing stuff usually worked…

And then one of them had said the name “Zira Fell” and all of Crowley’s plans for simply driving them away went clean out the window.

These _monsters_ were here to take her Angel away!

From her perch high above, concealed in the branches of the trees still standing, she uttered a low, threatening growl.

“Sonofabitch! Did you hear that?!” the one called “Cassidy” yelped.

Cassidy whipped out some kind of black object from the pouch at his side and pointed it wildly between the trees.

“What the _fuck_ did I just say about pistols at-ready?! Put that away!” the woman who was called “Captain” yelled.

Cassidy’s hands visibly trembled, but he complied sheepishly.

“S-sorry, Captain,” he whimpered.

Crowley cocked her head. The blocky weapons didn’t look like pistols, at least, not the ones _she’d_ used before…

_Gonna need to be careful with the twitchy one… twitchy is dangerous._

There were eight others besides Captain and Cassidy. They looked disciplined enough, but Crowley could handle discipline. She'd handled worse.

She bunched up her tail and used it to propel her body into another tree with a rattling crash, sending twigs and leaves scattering to the floor below. All ten members of the group looked up, but Crowley was already safely concealed out of sight by the thick boughs.

“I swear there’s something out there!” Cassidy exclaimed.

“It’s probably just a monkey or something,” the human that was Sidra scoffed with a roll of her eyes.

Captain was remaining silent, but Crowley could see the tense lines in her shoulders.

_That one... she doesn’t startle easily. May have combat experience… should also watch out for her…_

Finally, Captain deigned to speak. “Look, everybody, the sooner we find Fell and bring her home, the sooner we _all_ can go home too.”

Crowley hissed loudly at that.

_This **is** her home!_

All of the humans, save for Captain, flinched at the sound of Crowley’s furious hissing.

“Oh _fuck me!”_ Sidra shrieked as the last echoes of it faded. “That sounds like one _fucking huge snake!”_

“Steady on, people. We’re not leaving until we get what we came here for,” Captain said.

Crowley slid down the trunk with a near inaudible rasp to lower herself to ground level.

_Of **course** they won’t leave. Bloody monsters coming here to take … that’s all they do! They **take** and **destroy** and- and-_

And she _wasn’t_ going to let them take her Angel too.

Crowley crouched low, every muscle in her body ready to spring. She felt the venom dribble from her elongated fangs to sizzle in the soft earth below. She could hear every one of their heartbeats, and smell the sweat and _fear_ that radiated off them. She let her tongue flit out; not to smell it, but to _taste_ it.

Crowley had to be _patient,_ however. If she tried to take on all ten humans at once, she ran the risk of injury. No, she just needed to wait until they separated enough to be picked off one by one…

She didn’t have to wait long.

***~*~*~*~***

Medina was running towards the screams before she even knew what was causing them.

“Hang on, I’m coming!”

The screams were immediately cut off with a choked gurgle and as she came upon the scene, she could understand why.

One of the Apprentices, Hua, was being crushed to death by some kind of snake-like abomination!

The creature was covered in shiny black scales from tail to… torso?!

The upper half of the creature looked _almost_ human, were it not for the veneer of scales on every inch of skin and the glaring yellow eyes.

Medina lifted her pistol, aimed directly for the coils encircling the poor Apprentice, and unloaded the entire clip.

To her horror, the bullets ricocheted off the armor-like scales. The sharp retort of the gun, however, was enough to startle the creature who dropped Hua to the dirt before disappearing into the undergrowth.

“Backup! I need backup, here!” Medina shouted as an apprentice close enough to hear Hua’s previous screams came running. 

“I saw what happened!” gasped Sidra. “Was _that_ what we heard earlier?”

“No doubt. I scared it off for now but we need to get Hua-”

Another scream ripped through the air. Medina scrambled back to her feet. “Sidra, get Hua back to the transport! Take anyone else you can with you, that’s an order!”

Sidra nodded and helped Hua to stand, who groaned at the pain of doing so, while Medina took off after the creature.

She found it pressing Cassidy face-first into the dirt with a hand between his shoulder blades. Caddisy was sobbing and squirming to get away as the creature lowered its fang-filled mouth to bite.

Medina was out of ammunition (she’d only ever needed the one clip!) so she acted on an impulse…

...and spiked her empty pistol at the monster’s head.

Her aim was true and the gun thunked off the creature’s temple with a sound like metal hitting plastic. It clapped its hands to the side of its head and howled. Cassidy took advantage of his newly freed state to roll onto his back and pump every round of his pistol into the scaly chest above him.

The bullets didn’t bounce away, but neither did they sink deep enough into flesh to cause any _real_ damage. The monster rippled her body and the projectiles popped out.

“It’s like she’s covered in _kevlar!”_ shrieked Cassidy as he crab-shuffled backwards. 

Medina seized his wrist and yanked him upright with one hand while she drew her knife with the other.

“Hua’s injured,” the Captain explained hastily. “Grab everyone and get back to the transport. I'll hold it off as long as I can!”

“But Captain-!”

“I said _go,_ Cassidy!”

Medina’s eyes never left her opponent as the two of them circled each other, but she could hear Cassidy running off to carry out her orders. 

“Come on, you big, ugly bitch… just keep your eyes on me… ignore the others… just keep looking at me...”

The monster blinked in surprise, then started _laughing._ “Do you really think you’ll be able to protect _any_ of them, Captain?”

Medina’s arms went limp at her side at the same time her jaw did. Her knife dangled from numb fingers.

“You… you can speak?” she mumbled.

“I can do _so much more than that,_ human,” The monster chuckled again. It struck forward, gripping Medina by her vest and hoisting her up into the air. “You _creatures_ are all the same…”

The human slashed with her knife, dragging the blade along the monster’s inner arm but it just sent up a hail of sparks like it was scraping across iron.

“You just _take and take,_ but it’s never enough. You _threaten,_ you _murder,_ you _abandon- ”_ it took a shaky breath. “I know what you and your men are here for. Your kind already ruined my life once; took _everything_ from me. I _won’t_ let it happen again!”

Medina, for the first time since enlisting in active service was well and truly frightened. She was determined, however, to buy her Apprentices the time to escape.

“If… if you know why we’re here, then you know we can’t leave without Zira,”

It was a bluff. Medina and her crew were under no obligation (legal or otherwise) to remain, but she kept talking in the hopes that the monster didn’t know that. Maybe it would even tell them where Zira could be found and everyone could walk away from this encounter with their spines intact.

Medina gathered up her courage, and locked gazes with the beast.

It froze.

***~*~*~*~***

_Angel eyes._

This close, Crowley could see that Captain’s eyes were almost the exact same shade of blue as her Angel’s. There were a few, subtle differences but the similarities were enough to send the naga reeling. While Captain’s were the soft color of the sky, her Angel’s were more like sunlight trickling through ocean waves.

Crowley saw her reflection in those eyes, and imagined she was looking at herself through her Angel’s instead.

She imagined her chosen mate looking at her with those same wide, terrified eyes.

It didn’t feel good.

“J-just tell us where Zira is, and we’ll leave. We don’t want anything of yours, just her,” Captain told her.

_She **is** mine! And I’m hers!_

Crowley yanked the struggling human forward until they were practically nose-to-nose.

“Zira Fell is _dead._ I crushed her bones…” She gripped Captain’s vest tighter. “...tore hereyes out with my _teeth…”_ Crowley flashed a fang. “...and _drank_ her blood.” Her tongue licked at the corners of her mouth. “There’s not even enough of her left to _bury.”_

Captain moaned in horror and Crowley relinquished her hold, dropping the human who landed in a crumpled heap.

“Y-you… _demon!”_ the smaller being spat.

Crowley went on, unbothered by the petty insult. “Go back to whoever sent you and let them know Zira won’t be coming back.”

“What should I tell them, huh? That a monster killed her? They’ll just send more humans after you in retaliation until _you’re_ dead too!”

Crowley crouched down to be as close to eye level with Captain as she could.

“No one will believe you,”

The human jolted, eyes wide in shock. Crowley continued, “So, Captain, I would suggest you come up with a _convincing_ excuse.”

The naga didn’t stick around to see if her words were heeded.

She already knew they were by the sound of Captain’s panicked, retreating footfalls.

***~*~*~*~***

Later, Sidra tentatively approached Captain Medina, who was standing on the deck of the transport ship watching the hellish island fade into the distance. “Captain, ma'am, Hua is stable. He’ll still need medical attention once we arrive back in port, however.”

The only sign that Captain Medina heard her was an acknowledging grunt.

Sidra knew she should take it as a dismissal, but she’d never been one to sit idly by when something didn’t sit right with her. “What happened back there, ma'am? What _was_ that thing?”

Medina shuddered. She could already tell she’d have nightmares for months, if not years, to come. “A monster, Apprentice.”

Sidra nodded weakly, but didn’t seem mollified by the answer. In fact, it just seemed to rile her up further. “It killed Zira?”

“Yes,”

“Then shouldn’t we _call_ someone? The Winchesters or- or maybe glass this whole damned place from orbit, or-”

“Tell me, Apprentice, did you take a picture of the monster? A video? Any kind of recording?”

Sidra was struck dumb by her Captain’s sudden digression, but she answered honestly.

“N-no, ma'am. None of us did,” she admitted.

Medina finally looked at her. The captain's face was expressionless, but her eyes were haunted.

She thought of Chinese merchant ships and a body with sky-blue eyes dangling from a homemade noose.

“Then no one will believe you,”

***~*~*~*~***

Zira was now worried.

Well, scratch that, she’d _been_ worried ever since Crowley disappeared into the water, but now she was _double-worried_. Maybe even _triple!_

At first, she was just concerned for her friend’s general safety. What kind of monsters were out there? Was Crowley at risk of being killed by them? 

Then Zira began to worry about _herself,_ too. What if Crowley _had_ been killed? How was Zira going to get out of this cave? She couldn’t swim the distance to the surface alone and she didn’t fancy a slow death by starvation in an underwater cave, or a traumatic one from drowning as she tried to make a break for freedom.

So now she sat at the edge of the water, watching, waiting.

Worrying.

Then she saw movement under the water and scrambled back away from the ledge. Was it Crowley? Or one of the monsters?

She was answered by a mop of sodden red hair breaking the surface with a gasp.

“Crowley!”

The naga dragged her bruised and battered body out of the water onto the cave floor next to Ezra.

“H-hey, angel… m’back…” she panted.

Crowley’s “normal” form had returned, and Zira could see signs of a fight all over her body. Some of the scales on her tail were cracked, but otherwise unharmed, though it probably smarted. Her chest was covered in a litany of bruises shaped like circles with a few of them dripping blood from small, shallow holes. Her left temple had a red, angry bump on it like she’d hit her head on something.

“Ohmygoodness! What happened?! Are you alright?! Of course you’re not alright, just look at the _state_ of you-” Zira babbled.

“Angel, I’m _fine,”_ Crowley told her with a faintly proud smile as she held out a hand for the human to take. “I scared ‘em off.”

Zira took the hand and kissed the back of it. “What _were_ they? What did they want? Did they try to- to eat you or something? How often do they come here?!” she fretted.

“They’re the _worst_ kind of monsters I’ve ever met. They had strange weapons I’ve never seen before and they come to this island to _take._ This was the first time I’ve seen them in a _long time,_ but…” Crowley exhaled unsteadily and used her free hand to caress the other’s face. “...but this time they came for _you.”_

Zira whimpered.

“M-me? What did they want with _me?!”_

Crowley pushed herself into a sitting position and groaned. “I don’t know. They didn’t tell me. I knew they were here to steal you, and they said as much, but they never told me why. Don’t worry. I was never going to let them have you.”

Zira carefully hugged Crowley, taking caution to not agitate her wounds.

“Thank you, my dear, for risking your life; for not letting them hurt me,”

Crowley embraced her back fiercely, ignoring the throbbing pain on her chest as she did so. “I would _never_ let anything hurt you.”

***~*~*~*~***

That evening, as her injuries were cleaned out under her Angel’s gentle ministrations, Crowley decided she wouldn’t tell her about the invaders being humans.

Her Angel couldn’t help being one, and Crowley knew that her sweet love would feel terribly guilty for belonging to a race of creatures with such destructive tendencies; worse, she might even blame _herself!_

_"No,"_ Crowley thought. _"I won’t tell her. It will hurt her less if she doesn’t know."_

***~*~*~*~***

The sounds of _Sholay_ piped from the television in Gabriel’s living room, but none of the three humans gathered around it were conscious of them. Even when Gabbar Singh blew away three bandits with three expertly-timed shots, nobody in the present moved.

Zira was dead.

Anathema sat on the couch wedged between Newt and Gabriel, each of them silent in their own grief. She felt… lost. Not even a day ago she had hope that her best friend would be returned to her alive, if a little worse for wear. Now, however, there was nothing but Captain Medina’s trembling admission that Zira would never be coming home; that there wasn’t even enough left of her body to bring back.

Her friend’s corpse was left on a haunted island mouldering in the tropical sun without even the dignity of a proper burial or cremation.

Anathema’s stomach curdled at the thought and she covered her mouth to keep from gagging.

To her right, Newt was staring at his hands which were fidgeting ceaselessly. It didn’t take a witch’s powers to tell that he felt immense guilt for being the boat captain to lose her in the first place.

Anathema refused to let him feel that way, however, and looped her arm around his shoulder in a comforting gesture. Newt leaned into her, gladly, and she extended her other arm towards Gabriel to bring him in too.

Instead, the younger Fell sibling rose in stiff, jerky movements. His once-blue eyes were rimmed with so much red that the irises looked practically purple. Every muscle in his body was locked so rigid that he trembled slightly from the force of it.

“Gabriel…” Anathema whispered loud enough for him to hear over the TV, trying to get him to come back.

“I need some air,” he murmured, and made for the door.

Anathema knew she should follow him to make sure he wasn’t about to do something dangerous or self-destructive. 

The weight of her own grief, however, kept her bound to the couch as surely as if there were leaden rings around her ankles. She tried calling for Gabriel one more time, but he didn’t look back as he slammed the door behind him.

Anathema finally gave herself over to the crushing pressure of loss and wailed her sorrow to the stillness of the room. She pushed her glasses off her face to keep from cracking the lenses as she dug the heels of her palms into her eyes like that would, somehow, make the tears stop.

Newt, now no longer encircled by the protection of her arms, rose to stand.

“Is… is there anything I can do for either of you? Do you want me to get you a coffee or do you want to be left alone or something else?” he ventured to ask.

Anathema gave him a wobbly smile that was trying too hard to look grateful.

“N-no, Newt. I’m fine for now, but… could you go after Gabe? Just keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid,”

Newt nodded and went to follow Gabriel. Standing on the threshold, in the open doorway, he said over his shoulder, “I’m still gonna get you a drink. Chai Latte with extra cinnamon sound good?”

Anathema’s smile, against all odds, widened just a bit.

***~*~*~*~***

That night, as Zira lay curled up with Crowley in their nest, she ventured to ask a question that had been nagging at the back of her mind for the better part of the afternoon.

“Crowley, my dear…” she began and rolled over onto her side, looking at the dozing naga beside her.

“Hm?”

Crowley hadn’t opened her eyes or moved from where she was on her back with her arms crossed behind her head.

“Earlier, before you brought me to the hidden cave in the rockpool, you said that ‘something was coming’. How did you know that the monsters were on their way?” was Zira's soft inquiry. “Is there a sort of ‘preemptive warning signal’ I should be aware of in case it happens again?”

Crowley finally opened her eyes to look at the concerned face beside her.

“It’s… the _island_ tells me when things are happening,” Crowley murmured, unable to phrase it better.

“The island? It talks to you?”

Crowley waved her hand through the air in a general, all-encompassing gesture. 

“It doesn’t _literally_ talk to me, it just… I can’t really describe it unless you’ve done it yourself. Sometimes there’s a shifting in the wind, or a smell I’ve never smelled before, or even a sound just on the edge of my hearing,” she explained to the human.

Zira frowned. He had more questions than answers now.

“Does it only happen when the monsters show up?”

Crowley shrugged. 

“I’ve never been forewarned about hurricanes or other disasters. Not sure why. Probably because those are _natural,_ and the monsters who come here are anything but,” she said.

Zira shuddered. The monsters she pictured all had long, frightful talons and sharp teeth for rending and tearing. Maybe they were covered in feathers, like some massive bird of prey; it made perfect sense for them to be like that, if a giant snake was afraid of them.

She was so thankful that Crowley had protected her from them, and let her know so with a delicate peck to the naga’s shoulder.

Then she asked another question that had just occurred to her.

“I know I’m not one of those monsters, but did the island tell you _I_ was coming?” Zira wanted to know.

Crowley’s expression, previously contemplative, melted into a look of warmth.

“It did,”

Zira slowly scooted a bit forward so she could rest her head on the other woman's shoulder. She reached out and twirled a lock of Crowley’s hair around her finger; not as a way of getting attention, but simply for the emotional intimacy of it.

“What did it feel like?” the human whispered and looked up at the crystal-studded ceiling of their nest.

Crowley closed her eyes, remembering the sensation.

“The first thing I felt was a lurching in my chest, like someone had tied a string around my heart and yanked on it. Thought I was dying for a solid minute before the rest happened. Then, the wind around me moved and it carried with it the sounds of singing, the beating of enormous wings, and church bells,” she chuckled. “I scented the air and it smelled like flowers not native to this place, and tasted like cocoa beans but sweeter. I found you washed up on shore shortly thereafter.”

Zira had to blink rapidly to keep her tears from showing just how affected by Crowley’s words she really was.

“That… you got all that from me?”

“I got _so much more_ than that from you, angel,” Crowley said, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

She curled her tail around Zira's legs and brought her somehow even closer. One arm came around her shoulders. “I got more than I ever thought I’d deserve.”


	9. Zira's Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel and Anathema have a funeral and Zira, meanwhile, makes her choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Gladiolus flower comes from the Roman word for sword, "Gladius", because of its pointed length. When given, they typically symbolize strength of character and courage and purple, in particular, represents nobility. Therefore, a Purple Gladiolus = "Strong, brave, noble person"
> 
> ALSO WE FINALLY GET TO THE SMUT! Starts at "...began kissing the mark again." and carries until the end of the chapter.

**2 Weeks Later**

It was sunny the day of Zira's funeral.

The sky was cloudless, the weather was unseasonably mild, and even birds twittered from where they perched outside the church’s stained glass windows.

_It shouldn’t be like this. It should be dark and rainy and cold. Isn’t that how it always is in the movies?,_ Gabriel thought bitterly from his seat in the first row of pews.

An angry, selfish part of him was _furious_ that the world _dared_ to keep turning and being beautiful while his sister was no longer in it. 

_She would have loved the weather today. She should have been here to see it._

There had been an outpouring of support on social media for the beloved author’s passing, and gifts from heartbroken fans and well-wishers alike were constantly finding their way to Gabriel’s door.

_I have too many Teddy Bears. What the **fuck** am I supposed to do with **thirty fucking bears?!**_

The service had been solemn and brief, with only closest friends and family allowed to attend. With no actual _body_ present, the attendees simply placed photographs and handwritten letters into a small box to be symbolically burned instead.

Anathema had stood at the altar and gave a speech about how much she loved Zira and would miss her, only to practically collapse halfway through from sorrow and need to be brought back to her seat by a concerned Newt.

Gabriel hadn’t given any speech.

He sat hunched over in the pew in his clean-pressed black suit just staring at the box of paper that would have to substitute for the cremation that Zira would never get.

_It isn’t right, just leaving her there. She wanted to be scattered in the countryside, not simply be left where she had fallen._

Captain Medina hadn’t given any details about Zira's death beyond “animal attack”. Gabriel sort of wished she’d had. At least then he would _know_ the state of his sister's body and not be constantly tormented by worsening visions of the state it was in.

_‘Nothing left to retrieve’ was what Medina told me. Can’t imagine it looks too good then…_

The Captain in question was currently making her way down the aisle to add a pressed and dried stalk of dried purple Gladiolus to the cremation box.

_What had Zira said about those flowers? Something about swords and strength?_

Gabriel deeply regretted not paying closer attention to his older sister's interests. He’d give _anything_ to have Zira back, expounding on Victorian Flower Language.

Medina was dressed to the nines in her crisp white uniform, doffing her hat as she walked back down the aisle to stop at Gabriel’s pew.

It had been Anathema who extended Zira's funeral invitation to Medina. She felt that, considering how shaken up Medina had sounded on the phone while informing them of Zira's death, the woman should be allowed a bit of closure herself. Gabriel hadn’t objected; he’d fallen too deep into a dark pit of his own emotions to protest anything anymore.

“You know I… I bought and read one of your sister's books recently. Not _‘A Mermaid’s Tale'_ but her first, _‘Glass Bones and Paper Skin’,”_ Medina twisted her cap in her hands. “I really enjoyed it.”

Gabriel just “hmm”-ed.

 _"Glass Bones and Paper Skin"_ had been Zira's first attempt at fiction and ended in commercial failure, save for a few die-hard Fell Fans who considered it to be somewhat of a cult classic. Gabriel had hated it, though he never told Zira, and Anathema had called it a “unique take on post-apocalyptic Edwardian society fiction”. If Medina enjoyed it… well…

There’s no accounting for some people’s taste.

Medina placed her now slightly crumpled hat atop her head. “I think we could have been good friends, had I met her. Zira and I, I mean.”

Gabriel arched a single, perfectly-groomed eyebrow.

“Yeah. She would have liked you too,”

Gabriel was thankful that Medina didn’t try to ply him with empty platitudes like “I’m sorry for your loss” or “she’s in a better place”. Those were bad enough coming from busybodies like Zira's neighbor Tracy, who kept trying to push home-cooked meals on him. Medina simply nodded her thanks and returned to her seat.

Gabriel turned flat, unseeing eyes back to the cremation box as the last discordant notes of “Nearer my God, to Thee” rang out from the chapel’s speakers.

***~*~*~*~***

_“Aaaaangeeeel!”_

Zira heard Crowley calling from inside the salvage room and came out of their nest to investigate.

The human frowned in concern when she saw her friend standing in the middle of the room with her hands folded behind her back, as if hiding something. “Is everything alright, dear? You haven’t accidentally got your hands stuck in one of those fingertrap toys from the Igloo crate again, have you?”

Crowley grumbled in embarrassment, but shook her head.

“No,” she answered. “I have a surprise for you! It was the only one, unfortunately…”

Now Zira's curiosity was piqued. She took a step closer to try and peer around her friend’s back.

“What is it then?” the human asked.

Crowley shimmied in place, then presented her hands with a flourish.

For a minute, Zira wasn’t certain what she was looking at, but then the realization of the object’s true nature slammed into her.

A _radio!_

It was a small, grey number able to be held in one hand with speakers on the front and so many fiddly little buttons and knobs that at least _one_ of them had to be able to send a signal somehow! Sure enough, there appeared to be a square microphone for speaking into attached to the side by a long, curly cord.

Zira's hands trembled as she took it from Crowley. Did it even work? Was it still usable? 

She popped open the panel on the back and peered inside. The batteries were a little old, but otherwise in good shape. 

Zira closed the panel and, experimentally, flicked the “On” switch.

There was a bit of static as the antenna sought out a workable signal, but once it did, faint strums of some waltz came piping out of the speakers. 

Zira could have _wept_ with relief!

She had a working radio! She could send out a signal! She could go _home!_

“Now we can have music for our courtship dances!” Crowley cried out in excitement.

Zira's thoughts of “rescue” ground to a screeching halt.

_Ah, yes. Crowley. I’d almost forgotten…_

“Still insisting on courting me, eh fiend?” she chuckled, managing to keep the tremor out of her voice.

“I’ll wait 6,000 years if I have to! I will _never_ stop trying to court you until you consent to be my mate,” Crowley crooked a finger under Ezra’s chin and lifted her face to look at her. “Or until you tell me to stop.”

Crowley’s face was completely serious. Zira searched her eyes for any sign of teasing or joking, but found only true, unbridled sincerity. The redhead really _was_ prepared to wait as long as it took. Zira didn’t feel like she deserved it…

She looked down at the radio gripped in her hands tight enough to whiten her knuckles.

All it would take was _one_ message.

One moment alone to send it, and then she’d be free…

She couldn’t do it.

_I can’t leave her…_

_I..._

_...I love her._

There were no angels blaring trumpets at her mental declaration. No deity descending from the skies bearing a banner declaring _“No shit, Sherlock!”_ There wasn’t even so much as a twinge of panic.

No, the realization settled into Zira's bones with a kind of familiar warmth like sipping on hot cocoa, or a shot of the finest whiskey. Quite frankly, she felt a little lightheaded as if she _had_ just had a drink or two.

 _"As lovely as your epiphany is, it doesn’t solve your problem. What about your family? Are you really going to just leave them wondering what happened to you? You can’t take a five meter snake-woman with you, so don’t bother thinking you can just bustle her up in a suitcase and smuggle her back to Soho!"_ the bitter voice screamed.

Something inside Zira snapped.

_I’ve had quite enough of you! I know I can’t take Crowley with me, but_ _it's not like I can just ring up my family and let them know I'm okay!_

_But you can…_

The third voice, the gentle one from days before, titled Zira's perception of things on its head. she ran a thumb over the radio’s buttons.

_I… I **could** call them. Or at least radio them. I could tell them I’m alive, that I’m safe! Maybe they could even visit… oh, but I’d have to warn them about Crowley…_

Zira suddenly felt suffused with a bright, nebulous joy that shone openly on her face. It could _work!_ She could put out a signal, inform whoever answered who she was, and explain that she was quite alright and to please help her get in touch with Gabriel or Anathema. 

She could have her love, _and_ her family!

Zira was so giddy with her plan, that she almost didn’t notice how long Crowley had been standing there in silence. When she returned to reality, the naga wasn’t looking at her, instead focusing on fiddling with the end of her tail.

“Do you want me to stop?” she mumbled, and Zira blinked.

“Stop what, dear?”

“You know… stop courting you?” Crowley managed to reply around the obvious pain saying the words caused her.

“What? _No!_ ” Zira's voice cracked and she would have felt embarrassed were she not so desperate to get her answer out. 

Crowley’s shoulders slumped, relieved.

“That’s good. I like courting you,” she admitted.

“Will you continue doing so? Even after I’ve accepted your courtship attempts and we become mates?” Zira slinked forward. “Will you continue to woo me?”

“If you’d allow me, I’d woo you until the end of time,”

Zira moved forward until she and her soon-to-be paramour were practically chest to chest.

“That’s good, because you don’t need to bother trying to convince me to be your mate anymore,” she breathed.

She set the radio aside and Crowley watched her do so with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. Zira straightened up and took both of the redhead’s hands in hers. She took a deep breath to steel herself for what she was about to say next.

_This is it, Zira! Do **not** mess this up like you did playing Joseph![1] You can still back out if you want..._

_...I don't._

In a voice that was steady, with not a hint of fear at doing so, Zira said, “Crowley, my dear, _dear_ serpent and protector… I accept your courtship. I would love _nothing_ more than to be mated to you.”

At first, nothing happened. Crowley had simply gone very, _very_ still.

Then, her pupils dilated a fraction of a centimeter, and her breathing picked up. Her next words were shaky.

“You… you mean it?” she whimpered. “You want me?”

Zira freed one of her hands to tuck a lock of hair behind her darling’s ear.

“I don’t _just_ want you, Crowley. I _love_ you. Completely, irretrievably, and irrevocably. I am yours for all of our days and beyond, if you’ll have me,” the human whispered.

A single tear rolled down Crowley’s cheek and then her lips were upon Zira's. The human felt a tongue press into her eager mouth.

“I love you too, angel. I _do_ want you for all of your mortal days, never _ever_ doubt that,” Crowely stressed when they came up for air. “‘Doubt the stars are fire, doubt the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar, but _never_ doubt I love.”

Zira made a tiny noise like the sound of a kitten’s mewling.

“You _did_ read Hamlet,” the human gasped sharply, with no small amount of delight.

“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t stop bothering me until I did,” Crowley grumbled with a roll of her eyes. “In all seriousness, though, I read it because _you_ loved it. I’d read every book if you asked.”

Zira rested her head against Crowley’s shoulder. She was overwhelmed with so many new, exciting emotions that she wasn’t sure what to do next! It was a whole new world Zira found hserself in and it was one she was _eager_ to explore!

The tanned fingers around her arms twitched as she stood on her tiptoes to nibble at Crowley’s neck. The naga closed her eyes and moaned unrestrained.

“Is there a special ritual to becoming mates? A mark or a claim or something?” Zira asked.

Fangs grazed her throat and she shivered deliciously at the thought of necking like a couple of silly teenagers.

“Not… not really,” Crowley whispered, sounding strained. “I can _give_ you a mark, if you want. A scar maybe - not anything that will hurt! - or a bit of venom in a shallow bite to permanently darken the skin like a tattoo? It won’t do anything else besides that in such a tiny dose.”

Zira embraced Crowley a bit tighter, then stole a quick, soft kiss.

“Th… the tattoo… will it hurt?”

The naga cupped her face. “The bite might at first, but the venom shouldn’t. I wouldn’t know, I’ve never done this before with any of the other humans I’ve been with.”

“There were other humans before me?” Zira frowned, irrationally hurt by the idea of someone else being intimate with _her_ Crowley.

“There were, but not…” the naga’s eyes flicked down to her tail for a split second. “...not like this. Please, angel, I don’t want to talk about that right now. Not when I’ve just got everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Zira's jealousy gave way to remorse. 

“You’re right, my love, I’m sorry to have upset you. It’s rather hypocritical of me, frankly. I haven’t exactly been, er- _chaste_ in the past, either,” she said.

Crowley let out a low hiss then buried her face in Zira's shoulder with a petulant huff.

“Don’t wanna talk about _that_ either,”

Zira laughed and rubbed at the other’s back.

 _“Now_ who’s the jealous one?”

Crowley sighed. “‘M sorry, angel. I really am. I know I shouldn’t be feeling like this, but I just have these _instincts_ that are howling ‘mineminemine’ and it’s _really_ hard to block them out.”

“You’re entitled to your feelings, darling, so long as you don’t act out on the more destructive ones,” Zira grinned, eyes flashing mischievously.

Crowley shot her a teasing look and purred slowly.

“What if my feelings were about how much I wanted to hunt down whatever lucky bastard it was who got to have you first and crush him to death with my bare _hands?”_

Zira squeaked. “Okay maybe not _those_ feelings!”

Crowley laughed then leaned down for a tender kiss. “Do you still want that mark, angel?”

“Oh yes _please,”_ Zira breathed. Then she thought of something. “But wait, I don’t _have_ venom, and I doubt my teeth are strong enough to leave a scar.”

“Just having you _say_ you love me, _knowing_ I’m yours, is enough for me,” Crowley whispered into the human’s ear, before kissing the shell of it softly.

Her love’s words filled Zira with pride. She was so happy that she could have such an impact on the glorious being before her.

So much had happened in the last month. They had gone from strangers, to friends, to lovers (at least in name, not yet in _practice)_ at a speed that Zira would have considered to be foolish were it not for the pervasive _rightness_ she felt. She truly felt as if he’d known Crowley forever, yet there was still so much that she could discover.

Zira loved her. She had spent so long fretting and fussing over her burgeoning feelings that, when they were finally acknowledged, she felt somewhat off-kilter. It was like she’d been walking down a hallway towards an unlabelled door, panicking the entire way at what horrors may lay beyond, only to finally throw it open and find nothing on the other side except for a cute puppy.

Or, in this case, a giant snake-human who only ever looked at her with love.

Zira sighed happily. Crowley’s arms wrapped around her middle and the human cuddled closer.

“I’m ready, my love,” Zira said and her eyes slid closed.

She felt a hand brush through her blonde curls, and a puff of breath right at the junction where her neck met het clavicle.

“It’ll be quick, angel. I promise,” the naga murmured against her skin.

Then Crowley struck.

Zira cried out when sharp fangs pierced the skin of her neck. The pain was quick and sharp, but, true to the redhead’s word, over quickly and gave way to an almost immediate blooming of mild arousal.

She'd always had a thing for biting and _being_ bitten.

A sensation of heat began radiating from where Crowley’s mouth was still attached to her skin.

“Wha- what’s that? Feels warm,” Zira asked as it increased its intensity.

Crowley grinned. “‘S v’nm.” Her mouth was currently, er, _preoccupied,_ but she still took the time to explain what was happening so her mate wouldn’t be afraid.

_‘Mates’, yes. I rather enjoy the sound of that._

Finally, Crowley unlatched. Her fangs were tipped by two small drops of Zira's blood, which were quickly licked away by a forked tongue. The naga shot her a playfully lecherous look.

“How are you feeling, angel?” was her simple question.

Zira lifted her hand to gently finger at the bite on her shoulder. The skin felt no different, apart from two puncture wounds and a slightly feverish cast.

“I feel _wonderful,_ dearest. How does it look?” Zira asked when she realized she couldn’t see it herself.

“It’s a _beautiful_ mark of ownership,” Crowley said serenely.

She nuzzled at the “tattoo”, kissing and licking to soothe the still slightly inflamed flesh.

“You don’t ‘own’ me,” the human giggled as she playfully pushed at Crowley’s arm.

“No. I don’t. But let me indulge in my… baser instincts for a bit longer,”

“Indulge all you like, my darling. So long as I ‘own’ you too,” the human said breathlessly.

“You already do, angel. From that first night on, I’ve only ever been yours,” Crowley said.

What else could Zira do _but_ kiss her?

The kiss sent intense sparks of electricity through the both of them and they chased after each other’s mouths with enthusiasm, determined to make it last as long as they could. Zira grazed her blunt, human teeth over Crowley’s lower lip, who jerked her hips instinctively forward to grind against the other’s. At the contact, Zira made a soft noise of pleasure and tugged the redhead backwards until Crowley had her pressed against the rough wall of the salvage room. She tilted her head with sharp, panting gasps and the naga began kissing over the mark again.

They moved against each other in a way that could only be a precursor to something more explicit. Zira ran her hands over Crowley’s shoulders, back, and finally came to rest where the naga’s arse would be if she had human legs. The redhead made a startled little “eep” noise but didn’t stop moving, urged on by her mate’s squeezing hands.

“Angel, I… I can’t sssssstop. Tell me you want this,” Crowley gasped, her voice sounding like that night when she’d first asked Zira if Zira had wanted _her._

 _“Yes,_ my dearest. _Yes!_ I… I want to see you, _all_ of you,” Zira replied into her ear, pressing herself closer.

Crowley, however, stepped back.

“It’s just- um…” she said. “...you do know there’s _two_ of them, right? Two, uh… bits?”

Zira levelled her with a confused stare.

“‘Bits’? Really? So, like... you have two penises?” the human asked.

 _"No!"_ Crowley exclaimed. "I have two, er... two _bits!_ T-two clitorises..."

Zira blinked, then laughed, but far from unkindly. “Ah! I understand now, my love. As for your… ‘bits’, I _do_ happen to know a thing or two about snake anatomy, and suspected something like this could be the case. It doesn’t bother me. If it bothers _you,_ however, we can stop.”

Crowley shook her head fast enough to nearly whip Zira across the face with her long hair.

 _“No!_ It doesn’t bother me! I’ve had a long time to get used to them,” the naga emphasized hastily. “I was just looking out for you, is all.”

“Well, as I'm sure you can tell...” The human pressed closer so Crowley could feel the heat of her body. “...I am _quite_ unbothered, willing, and _eager_. So if you would _please-”_

Crowley dove for Zira's zipper, saw that there _wasn’t one,_ (Cargo pants. The devil's pants. Unsexy things, those, but when one gets one's clothes from a pilfered crate, one must make do) and let her forehead thunk against the wall with a groan of _soul-deep_ agony.

“What kind of evil design _is that?!”_ the naga muttered.

“I _know!_ Dreadful aren’t they?” Zira pouted in answer.

Crowley’s shoulders shook with wheezing guffaws at her mate's offended moue and Zira smacked her shoulder. “Keep that up and I’ll tell Dorothy that you were making fun of me.”

Crowley instantly stopped laughing. _“Noooo,_ don’t tell Dorothy. She’ll look at me all disappointed!”

“Then quit acting like a loon and let’s get back to what we started,”

With that, Zira shucked off her shirt, unclasped her bra, stepped out of her “evil” pants, and slipped her panties down to stand unashamedly naked.

She could feel the way the seam between her legs had dampened slightly, and the way Crowley was staring at it, like it was the only thing she’d ever wanted out of life, made a _very_ strong case for its continued interest.

Then one of the scutes on Crowley’s pelvis, right at the place where human torso met snakey hips, shifted slightly and her hemiclitorises finally made their appearance. They were bright red in color, about the width and length of a human thumb, and smoothe as polished glass. They nestled side-by-side in the gap between scales, peeking shyly out of a pinkened cloaca, and glistened with slick.

Zira felt aroused and amazed in equal measure.

“Oh, _Crowley…_ those are… I- _wow!”_ she gaped, letting her brain take a moment to come back online.

“How do you want to do this, angel?” Crowley asked as she scratched nervously at the back of her head.

Zira wanted to do _a lot_ of things, things involving mouths and fingers but at the moment, only one thing leapt to mind. “C… can I touch them?”

 _“Pleassssse,”_ Crowley gasped, not caring that the word practically spilled out of her.

Zira reached out a tentative hand and gently skirted her fingertips across the left clit. The texture was as smoothe as it looked and it was slick with lubrication to where Ezra was able to slowly run her fingers up and down it without causing painful friction. 

Crowley hissed and looked like she was fighting not to grind against Zira's entire hand.

“Angel, _please,”_ she groaned, tilting her head back a little.

Zira blinked the fog of lust away from her mind long enough to stumble back against the wall, bringing Crowley with her.

At the first touch of their labias (or in this case, Zira's labia and Crowley's cloaca-hemiclitorises combo) against each other, Zira keened and Crowley snarled.

The naga didn’t speak further, but pressed her face into Zira's neck and lifted one of the human’s legs to wrap around her waist. Zira had an urge to roll her hips and did so, feeling the swell of pleasure growing inside her.

It wasn’t pure want, however, that gathered around them. Zira could feel her serpent’s love in every grind and the way one powerful arm snaked (ha!) around her back to pull her closer and in the way the other pressed against the wall by her head, as if protecting her.

Zira's hands were clawing at Crowley’s back until one of them started carding though crimson tresses, pulling slightly with every pass. The naga choked out a pleased, if trembling, noise at the touch, crowding harder against the human beneath her.

All sensation and thought beyond the here and now faded away for Zira. If it _wasn’t_ immediately concerned with Crowley’s pleasure or the feel of her lean body, it could wait for _later._ The slick friction against her own parted lips, brushing teasingly against her own much smaller clit, was steadily driving Zira closer and closer to what she knew would be a shuddering release.

“Darling, please, _please,_ please!”

In a final, desperate bid to come, Zira tugged Crowley’s hair harder than she had intended and surged forward. She swallowed her lover’s awed shout of pleasure as the other’s fingers closed around her shoulder.

The feel of Crowley spasming above her was what finally pushed Zira over.

All higher thinking shut down completely. Her hands hooked over Crowley’s shoulders and she finally came with a rush of ecstasy. Her mouth dropped open in a silent cry under the onslaught of an orgasm that she could truly say was unlike any other she’d had before.

When she came back to herself, she saw that she was still pushed up against the wall, but now both of her legs had found their way around Crowley’s hips and the redhead had slumped forward.

“That was… _incredible!”_ Zira slurred, tightening her arms for more skin-to-skin contact.

She continued combing her fingers through Crowley’s hair, though this time it was simply to enjoy the feel of it under her hands while basking in the afterglow. The naga, however, still groaned against Zira's bare shoulder at the touch.

“Are you alright, beloved? Do you want to put me down?” the blonde asked, frowning slightly in concern.

“Nuh-uh. Never putting you down again. You live in my arms now,”

“That’s quite unrealistic, dearest. You’d get tired eventually,” Zira chuckled, shaking her head with a smile.

“Nope. Never will,” Crowley said amusingly and sat back on her tail to have the human straddle her lap chest-to-chest.

“Crowley, if you don’t put me down and let me clean up soon it's going to get quite uncomfortable,” Zira threatened, eyes twinkling as she jerked her chin at the wetness between their bodies.

"Yeah, I suppose so," the naga chortled.

She pushed herself up with her tail in one fluid motion and set her new mate down. Then she held out a hand beseechingly and Zira took it. “Come on. Let’s go get washed up. When we’re done, will you show me how that ‘radio’ thing works?”

“Anything for you, dearest. I can’t _wait_ to listen to music again,”

The idea of using the radio for anything beyond enjoying music and a dance with her mate never even occurred to Zira. The two of them strolled out of the cave hand-in-hand, the blonde chattering animatedly and Crowley, ever happy to do so, listening raptly.

***~*~*~*~***

1Halfway through a Nativity Play, Zira, playing Joseph, had been all set to deliver a grand, heart-rending speech to the audience about how _nobody_ had any room for "his" poor, heavily pregnant wife. Anathema, playing Mary, stood to the side and caressed the overinflated balloon stuffed under her dress to mimic the appearance of a woman nine months' with child. When Zira swung her arm out in a wide gesture, she'd accidentally smacked the balloon, instantly popping it.

The actors _and_ audience had gone very, very quiet.

Then, from the back, a single child's voice wailed, "Baby Jesus is _deeeeeaaad!"_ [return to text]


End file.
